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Eomances  of  ^Irxantirc  ©umas, 

D'ARTAGNAN    EDITION. 


ILLUSTRATED. 
Volume  XL VI. 


CONTENTS. 


Chaptbb  Page 

I.  Makseilles.  —  The  Arrival 1 

II.  Father  and  Son 13 

III.  The  Catalans 23 

IV.  Conspiracy 37 

V.  The  Marriage-Feast .  46 

VI.  The  Deputy  Procureur  du  Roi     .     ,    .    .  65 

VII.  The  Examination 80 

VIII.  The  Chateau  d'If ,     .  92 

IX.  The  Evening  of  the  Betrothal     ....  104 

X.  The  Small  Cabinet  of  the  Tuileries     .     .  Ill 

XI.  The  Ogre  of  Corsica 122 

XII.  Father  and  Son 133 

XIII.  The  Hundred  Days .  142 

XIV.  The  Two  Prisoners .  152 

XV.  No.  34  AND  No.  27 164 

XVI.  A  Learned  Italian 183 

XVII.  The  Abbe's  Chamber 197 

XVni.  The  Treasure 225 

XIX.  The  Third  Attack 241 

XX.  The  Cemetery  of  the  Chateau  d'If  .     .    .  254 

XXI.  The  Isle  of  Tiboulen 261 

XXII.  The  Smugglers     .    .    .    c 274 


Xll 

Chapter 

XXllI 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

The  Isle  or  Monte  Cristo      .    ,     .     ,     .  284 

The  Secret  Cave 294 

The  Unknown 304 

The  Inn  of  Pont  du  Gard      .....  314 

The  Recital 334 

The  Prison  Register 352 

The  House  of  Morrel  and  Son      .     .     .  361 

The  Tifth  of  September     ......  376 

Italy  :  Sinbad  the  Sailor  .,...-.  395 

The  Waking 424 

Roman  Bandits       432 

An  Apparition 467 

La  Mazzolata    ..........  500 

The  Carnival  at  Rome  , 518 

The  Catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian     .    .    .  540 


College 
Library 

^/ 
PUBLISHERS'    NOTE. 


1\/rONTE  CEISTO  —  the  most  celebrated  work  of 
■^^  its  celebrated  author,  not  even  excepting  the 
D'Artagnan  romances  —  has  hitherto  been  known 
to  the  English-speaking  world  only  through  the 
medium  of  a  very  imperfect  translation,  which  from 
time  to  time  has  been  republished  without  any  ma- 
terial improvement.  The  great  story  is  worthy  to  be 
presented  in  a  better  form.  If  readers  have  found 
it  admirable  in  a  crude  presentation  they  will  find 
new  excellences  in  it  as  they  follow,  in  an  improved 
translatior,  the  inimitable  style  of  its  author,  —  ob- 
serving his  peculiar  success  in  the  employment  of 
words  fitted  to  his  thought ;  his  quiet  humor,  often 
so  delicately  conveyed  that  a  careless  rendering 
must  lose  it  altogether ;  and,  regarding  the  work 
as  a  whole,  his  artistic  skill  in  proportion  and  per- 
spective, which  may  easily  be  made  of  no  effect  by 
omissions  in  translating. 

In  the  present  edition  omissions  have  been  sup- 
plied ;  expansions  have  been  rigorously  reduced  to 
the  author's  own  crisp  form  of  statement ;  erroneous 


lt^l522 


vi  PUBLISHERS'   NOTE. 

and  misleading  renderings  of  words  and  phrases  have 
been  corrected ;  and  where,  as  in  many  instances,  the 
translator  had  usurped  the  functions  of  the  author, 
he  has  been  remanded  to  his  proper  subordination. 

"  The  style  is  the  man ; "  and  no  small  part  of 
one's  pleasure  in  reading  comes  through  the  sense 
of  a  personal  intercourse  with  the  man  who  thus 
pervades  the  book.  It  is  therefore  with  a  peculiar 
satisfaction  that  in  publishing  this  work  we  create 
an  opportunity  to  make,  or  renew,  acquaintance  with 
Alexandre  Dumas,  through  a  translation  which  fol- 
lows him  instead  of  running  away  from  him,  and 
reproduces  his  forms  of  thought  with  as  much  pre- 
cision as  the  differences  between  English  and  French 
idioms  will  allow. 


"  The  young  man  is  a  great  criminal  and  I  caii  do 
nothing  for  him,  Mademoiselle." 

Drawn  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett,  etched  by  W.  H.  \V.  Bicknell. 

The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  I.  Frontispiece. 


THE 

COUNT    OF    MONTE    CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MARSEILLES. THE    ARRIVAL. 

On  the  28th  of  February,  1815,  the  watchman  in  the 
tower  of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde  signalled  the  three-mas- 
ter, the  "  Pharaon,"  from  Smyrna,  Trieste,  and  Naples. 
A  pilot  put  off  immediately,  and  rounding  the  Chateau 
d'lf,  got  on  board  the  vessel  between  Cape  Morgion  and 
the  Isle  of  Rion. 

The  platform  of  Fort  St.  Jean  was  covered  with 
spectators ;  it  is  always  an  event  at  Marseilles  for  a  ship 
to  come  into  port,  especially  when  this  ship,  like  the 
"  Pharaon,"  had  been  built,  rigged,  and  laden  at  the 
wharves  of  the  old  Phocee,  and  belonged  to  an  owner  in 
the  city. 

The  ship  drew  on  :  it  had  safely  passed  the  strait 
which  some  volcanic  shock  has  made  between  the  Isle  of 
Calasareigne  and  the  Isle  of  Jaros,  had  doubled  Pomegue, 
and  approached  the  harbor  under  topsails,  jib,  and  foresail, 
but  so  slowly  and  sedately  that  the  idlers,  with  that  in- 
stinct which  misfortune  sends  before  it,  asked  one  another 
what  misfortune  could  have  happened  on  board.  How- 
ever, those  experienced  in  navigation  saw  plainly  that  if 

VOL.   I.  —  1 


2  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRI9T0. 

any  accident  had  occurred,  it  was  not  to  the  vessel  herself, 
for  as  she  approached  she  gave  every  indication  of  being 
under  perfect  control.  Beside  the  pilot,  who  was  steering 
the  "  Pharaon  "  through  the  narrow  entrance  of  the  port  of 
Marseilles,  was  a  young  man,  who,  gesticulating  rapidly, 
watched  with  a  vigilant  eye  every  motion  of  the  ship,  and 
repeated  the  orders  of  the  pilot. 

The  vague  disquietude  which  prevailed  among  the  spec- 
tators had  so  much  aflfected  one  of  the  crowd  that  he 
covild  not  await  the  arrival  of  the  vessel  in  harbor,  but 
jumping  into  a  small  skiff,  desired  to  be  pulled  alongside 
the  "  Pharaon,"  which  he  reached  as  she  came  opposite 
the  bay  of  La  Eeserve. 

When  the  young  man  on  board  saw  him  coming,  he  left 
his  station  by  the  pilot,  and  came,  hat  in  hand,  to  the  side 
of  the  ship.  He  was  a  tall  slim  young  fellow,  nineteen  or 
twenty  years  old,  with  black  eyes,  and  hair  as  dark  as 
the  raven's  wing  ;  and  his  whole  appearance  bespoke  that 
calmness  and  resolution  peculiar  to  men  accustomed  from 
their  cradle  to  contend  with  danger. 

"  Ah  !  is  it  you,  Dantes  1 "  cried  the  man  in  the  skiff. 
"  What 's  the  matter  ]  And  why  have  you  such  an  air  of 
sadness  aboard  1 " 

"  A  great  misfortune,  M.  Morrel !  "  replied  the  young 
man,  —  "a  great  misfortune,  for  me  especially !  Off 
Civita  Vecchia  we  lost  our  brave  Captain   Leclere." 

"  And  the  cargo  1 "  inquired  the  owner,  eagerly. 

"  Is  all  safe,  M.  Morrel ;  and  I  think  you  will  be  satis- 
fied on  that  head.     But  poor  Captain  Leclere  —  " 

"  What  happened  to  him  ? "  asked  the  owner,  with  an 
air  of  relief     "  What  happened  to  the  worthy  captain  ]" 

"  He  is  dead." 

"Fell  into  the  sea?" 

"  No,  Monsieur,  he  died  of  the  brain  fever,  in  dreadful 


MARSEILLES.  —  THE  ARRIVAL.  5 

Edmond  seems  to  understand  it  thoroughly,  and  not  to 
require   instruction  from  any  one." 

"  Yes,"  said  Danglars,  casting  towards  Edmond  a  look 
in  which  gleamed  a  flash  of  hatred,  —  "  yes,  he  is  young, 
and  youth  is  invariably  self-confident.  Scarcely  was  the 
captain's  breath  out  of  his  body  when  he  assumed  the 
command  without  consulting  any  one,  and  he  caused  us 
to  lose  a  day  and  a  half  at  the  Isle  of  Elba,  instead  of 
making  for   Marseilles  direct." 

"As  to  taking  the  command  of  the  vessel,"  replied  Mor- 
rel,  "  that  was  his  duty  as  captain's  mate ;  as  to  losing  a 
day  and  a  half  off  the  Isle  of  Elba,  he  was  wrong,  unless 
the  ship  wanted  some  repair." 

"  The  ship  was  as  sound  as  I  am,  and  as  I  hope  you 
are,  M.  Morrel,  and  this  day  and  a  half  was  wasted 
through  sheer  caprice,  —  for  the  pleasure  of  going  ashore, 
and  nothing  else." 

"  Dantes !  "  said  the  ship-owner,  turning  towards  the 
young  man,   "come  this  way!" 

"  In  a  moment,  sir,"  answered  Dantes,  "  I  shall  be  at 
your  service."  Then  calling  to  the  crew,  he  said,  "  Let 
go!" 

The  anchor  was  instantly  dropped,  and  the  chain  ran 
rattling  through  the  port-hole.  Dantes  continued  at  his 
post  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  the  pilot  until  this  ma- 
noeuvre was  completed,  and  then  he  added,  "  Lower  the 
pennant  to  half-mast ;  put  the  ensign  in  a  weft,  and  slope 
the  yards !  " 

"  You  see,"  said  Danglars,  "  he  fancies  himself  captain 
already,  upon  my  word." 

"  And  so,  in  fact,  he  is,"  said  the  owner. 

"Yes,  wanting  your  signature  and  your  partner's,  M. 
Morrel." 

"And  why  should  he  not  have  it?"  asked  the  owners 


6  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  he  is  young,  it  is  true,  but  he  seems  to  me  a  thorough 
seaman,  and  of  full  experience." 

A  cloud  passed  over  Danglars's  brow. 

"  Your  pardon,  'M,  Morrel,"  said  Dantes,  approaching ; 
"  the  ship  now  rides  at  anchor,  and  I  am  at  your  service. 
You  called  me,  did  you  not  1 " 

Danglars  retreated  a  step  or  two. 

"  I  wished  to  inquire  why  you  stopped  at  the  Isle  of 
Elba?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir ;  it  was  to  fulfil  a  last  instruction  of 
Captain  Leclere,  who,  when  dying,  gave  me  a  packet  for 
the  Marechal  Bertrand." 

"  Did  you  see  him,  Edmond  1 " 

"See  whom?" 

*•'  The  marshal." 

"Yes." 

Morrel  looked  around  him,  and  then  drawing  Dantes  on 
one  side,  he  said  suddenly,  "  And  how  is  the  emperor  ? " 

"  Very  well,  as  far  as  I  could  judge  from  his  appearance." 

"  You  saw  the  emperor,  then  1 " 

"  He  entered  the  marshal's  apartment  while  I  was  there." 

*'  And  you  spoke  to  him  1 " 

"Why,  it  was  he  who  spoke  to  me.  Monsieur,"  said 
Dantes,  with  a  smile. 

"  And  what  did  he  say  to  you  1 " 

"  Asked  me  questions  about  the  ship,  —  when  she  would 
leave  for  Marseilles,  the  course  she  had  taken,  and  what 
was  her  cargo.  I  believe,  if  she  had  not  been  laden,  and 
I  had  been  her  master,  he  would  have  bought  her.  But 
I  told  him  I  was  only  mate,  and  that  she  belonged  to  the 
firm  of  Morrel  and  Son.  *  Ah,  ah  ! '  he  said.  '  I  know 
them  !  The  Morrels  have  been  ship-owners  from  father 
to  son  ;  and  there  was  a  Morrel  who  served  in  the  same 
regiment  with  me  when  I  was  in  garrison  at  Valence.' " 


MARSEILLES.  —  THE  ARRIVAL,  7 

"  Pardieu  f  and  that  is  true  !  "  cried  the  owner,  greatly- 
delighted.  "  And  that  was  Policar  Morrel,  my  uncle,  who 
was  afterwards  a  captain.  Dantes,  you  must  tell  my  uncle 
that  the  emperor  remembered  him,  and  you  will  see  it  will 
bring  tears  into  the  old  soldier's  eyes.  Come,  come  ! "  con- 
tinued he,  patting  Edmond's  shoulder  kindly,  "  you  did 
very  right,  Dantes,  to  follow  Captain  Leclere's  instruction, 
and  touch  at  the  Isle  of  Elba,  —  although  if  it  should  be- 
come known  that  you  had  conveyed  a  packet  to  the  mar- 
shal, and  had  conversed  with  the  emperor,  you  might  find 
yourself  compromised." 

"  How  could  that  compromise  me,  Monsieur  1 "  asked 
Dantes.  "  I  did  not  even  know  of  what  I  was  the  bearer ; 
and  the  emperor  merely  made  such  inquiries  as  he  would 
of  the  first  comer.  But,  your  pardon,  here  are  the  officers 
of  health  and  the  customs  coming  alongside  !  "  and  the 
young  man  went  to  the  gangway. 

As  he  departed,  Danglars  approached,  and  said,  — 

"  Well,  it  appears  that  he  has  given  you  satisfactory 
reasons  for  his  landing  at  Porto  Ferrajo  1 " 

"  Yes,  most  satisfactory,  my  dear  Danglars." 

"  Well,  so  much  the  better,"  said  the  supercargo ;  "  for 
it  is  always  painful  to  see  a  comrade  who  does  not  do  his 
duty." 

"  Dantes  has  done  his,"  replied  the  owner,  "  and  that  is 
not  saying  much.  It  was  Captain  Leclere  who  gave  or- 
ders for  this  delay." 

"  Talking  of  Captain  Leclere,  has  not  Dantes  given  you 
a  letter  from  him  *? " 

"  To  me  1     No ;  was  there  one  1 " 

"  I  believe  that  besides  the  packet  Captain  Leclere  had 
confided  a  letter  to  his  care." 

"  Of  what  packet  are  you  speaking,  Danglars  ? " 

"  Why,  that  which  Dantes  left  at  Porto  Ferrajo." 


8  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  had  a  packet  to  leave  at  Porto 
Ferrajo  1 " 

Daiiglars  turned  very  red.  "  I  was  passing  close  to  the 
door  of  the  captain's  cabin,  which  was  half  open,  and  I 
saw  him  give  the  packet  and  letter  to  Dantos." 

"  He  did  not  speak  to  me  of  it,"  replied  the  ship-owner ; 
"  but  if  there  be  any  letter  he  will  give  it  to  me." 

Danglars  reflected  for  a  moment.  "Then,  M.  Morrel, 
1  beg  of  you,"  said  he,  "  not  to  say  a  word  to  Dantes  on 
the  subject ;  I  may  have  been  mistaken." 

At  this  moment  the  young  man  returned,  and  Danglars 
withdrew. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Dantes,  are  you  now  free  1 "  inquired 
the  owner. 

*'  Yes,  Monsieur." 

"  You  have  not  been  long  detained." 

"  No.  I  gave  the  custom-house  officers  a  copy  of  our 
bill  of  lading ;  and  as  to  the  other  papers,  they  sent  a 
man  off  with  the  pilot  to  whom  I  gave  them." 

"  Then  you  have  nothing  more  to  do  here  1 " 

"  No ;  all  is  arranged  now." 

"  Then  you  can  come  and  dine  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  beg  you  to  excuse  me,  M.  Morrel ;  but  my  first  visit 
is  due  to  my  father.  I  am  not  the  less  grateful  for  the 
honor  you  have  done  me." 

"  Eight,  Dantes,  quite  right.  I  always  knew  you  were 
a  good  son." 

"And,"  inquired  Dantes,  with  some  hesitation,  "do 
you  know  how  my  father  is  1 " 

"  Well,  I  believe,  my  dear  Edmond,  though  I  have  not 
seen  him  lately." 

"  Yes,  he  likes  to  keep  himself  shut  up  in  his  little  room." 

"  That  proves,  at  least,  that  he  has  wanted  for  nothing 
during  vour  absence." 


MARSEILLES.  —  THE  ARRIVAL.  9 

Dantes  smiled.  "My  father  is  proud,  sir;  and  if  he 
liad  not  a  meal  left,  I  doubt  if  he  would  have  asked  any- 
thing from  any  one,  except  God." 

"  Well,  then,  after  this  first  visit  has  been  made  we 
rely  on  you." 

"I  must  again  excuse  myself,  M.  Morrel,  —  for  after 
this  first  visit  has  been  paid  I  have  another  which  I  am 
most  anxious  to  pay." 

"  True,  Dantes,  I  forgot  that  there  is  at  the  Catalans 
some  one  who  expects  you  no  less  impatiently  than  your 
father,  —  the  lovely  Mercedes." 

Dantes  blushed. 

"  Ah,  ah  !  "  said  the  ship-owner,  "  that  does  not  aston- 
ish me,  for  she  has  been  to  me  three  times,  inquiring  if 
there  were  any  news  of  the  '  Pharaon.'  Peste  !  Edmond, 
you  have  a  very  handsome  mistress  !  " 

"  She  is  not  my  mistress,"  replied  the  young  sailor, 
gravely;  "she  is  my  betrothed." 

"Sometimes  one  and  the  same  thing,"  said  Morrel, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Not  with  us,  Monsieur,"  replied  Dantes. 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear  Edmond,"  continued  the  owner, 
"do  not  let  me  detain  you.  You  have  managed  my 
affairs  so  well  that  I  ought  to  allow  you  all  the  time  you 
require  for  your  own.     Do  you  want  any  money  %  " 

"No,  Monsieur;  I  have  all  my  pay  to  receive,  —  nearly 
three  months'  wages." 

"  You  are  a  careful  fellow,  Edmond." 

"  Say  that  I  have  a  poor  father,  Monsieur." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  that  you  are  a  good  son.  Go,  then, 
to  see  your  father.  I  have  a  son  too,  and  I  should  be 
very  wroth  with  any  one  who  should  keep  him  from  me 
after  a  three  months*  voyage." 

"  Then  I  have  your  leave,  Monsieur  1 " 


10  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes,  if  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me." 

"  Nothing." 

"  Captain  Leclere  did  not,  before  he  died,  give  you  a 
letter  for  me  1 " 

"  He  was  unable  to  write,  sir.  But  that  reminds  me 
\hat  I  must  ask  leave  of  absence  for  a  fortnight." 

"  To  get  married  1 " 

"  Yes,  first,  and  then  to  go  to  Paris." 

"  Very  good  ;  have  what  time  you  require,  Dantes.  It 
will  take  quite  six  weeks  to  unload  the  cargo,  and  we  can- 
not get  you  ready  for  sea  until  three  months  after  that ; 
only  be  back  again  in  three  months,  —  for  the  *  Pharaon,'  " 
added  the  owner,  patting  the  young  sailor  on  the  back, 
"  cannot  sail  without  her  captain." 

"  Without  her  captain  !  "  cried  Dantes,  his  eyes  spark- 
ling with  animation ;  "  pray  mind  what  you  say,  for  you 
are  touching  on  the  most  secret  wishes  of  my  heart.  Is 
it  really  your  intention  to  make  me  captain  of  the 
*  Pharaon  '  1 " 

"  If  I  were  sole  owner  I  would  appoint  you  this  mo- 
ment, my  dear  Dantes,  and  say  it  is  settled  ;  but  I  have 
a  partner,  and  you  know  the  Italian  proverb, — Chi  ha 
compagno  ha  padrone,  '  He  who  has  a  partner  has  a  mas- 
ter.' But  the  thing  is  at  least  half  done,  since  of  the  two 
votes  you  have  already  secured  one.  Rely  on  me  to  pro- 
cure you  the  other  ;  I  will  do  my  best." 

"  Ah,  M.  Morrel,"  exclaimed  the  young  seaman,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  grasping  the  owner's  hand,  —  "  M. 
Morrel,  I  thank  you  in  the  name  of  nay  father  and  of 
Mercedes." 

"  Good,  good,  Edmond  !  Devil  take  it,  there  's  a  God 
in  heaven  for  good  fellows  !  Go  to  your  father ;  go  and 
see  Mercedes,  and  come  to  me  afterwards." 

"  Shall  I  row  you  on  shore  \  " 


MARSEILLES.  —  THE  ARRIVAL.  11 

"  No,  I  thank  you  ;  I  shall  remain  and  look  over  the 
accounts  with  Danglars.  Have  you  been  satisfied  with 
him  this  voyage  1 " 

"  That  is  according  to  the  sense  you  attach  to  the  ques- 
tion, Monsieur.  Do  you  mean,  is  he  a  good  comrade  ? 
No,  for  I  think  he  never  liked  me  since  the  day  when  I 
was  silly  enough,  after  a  little  quarrel  we  had,  to  propose 
to  him  to  stop  for  ten  minutes  at  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo 
to  settle  the  dispute,  —  a  proposition  which  I  was  wrong  to 
suggest,  and  he  quite  right  to  refuse.  If  your  question 
refers  to  his  conduct  as  supercargo,  I  believe  there  is  noth- 
ing to  say  against  him,  and  that  you  will  be  content  with 
the  way  in  which  he  has  performed  his  duty." 

"  But  tell  me,  Dantes,  if  you  had  the  command  of  the 
*  Pharaon,'  should  you  have  pleasure  in  retaining 
Danglars "? " 

"  Captain  or  mate,  M.  Morrel,"  replied  Dantes,  "  I  shall 
always  have  the  greatest  respect  for  those  who  possess  our 
owner's  confidence." 

"  Good,  good,  Dantes  !  I  see  you  are  at  all  points  a 
good  fellow.  Let  me  detain  you  no  longer.  Go,  for  I  see 
how  impatient  you  are." 

"  Then  I  have  leave  1 " 

"  Go,  I  tell  you." 

"  May  I  have  the  use  of  your  skiff?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Then,  for  the  present,  M.  Morrel,  farewell,  and  a 
thousand  thanks  ! " 

"  I  hope  soon  to  see  you  again,  my  dear  Edmond. 
Good  luck  to  you  !  " 

The  young  sailor  jumped  into  the  skiff,  and  sat  down 
in  the  stern,  desiring  to  be  put  ashore  at  the  Canebiere. 
The  two  rowers  bent  to  their  work,  and  the  little  boat 
glided  away  as  rapidly  as  possible  in  the  midst  of  the 


12  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

thousand  vessels  whicli  choke  up  the  narrow  way  which 
leads  between  the  two  rows  of  ships  from  the  mouth  of 
the  harbor  to  the  Quai  d'Orl^ans. 

The  ship-owner,  smiling,  followed  him  with  his  eyes 
until  he  saw  him  spring  out  on  the  quay  and  disappear  in 
the  midst  of  the  throng  which  from  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning  until  nine  o'clock  at  night  chokes  up  this  famous 
street  of  La  Canebiere,  of  which  the  modern  Phoceens  are 
so  proud  that  they  say  with  all  the  gravity  in  the  world, 
and  with  that  accent  which  gives  so  much  character  to 
what  is  said,  "  If  Paris  had  La  Canebiere,  Paris  would  be 
a  second  Marseilles."  On  turning  round,  the  owner  saw 
Danglars  behind  him,  who  apparently  awaited  his  orders, 
but  in  reality  followed,  as  he  did,  the  young  sailor  with 
his  eyes ;  but  there  was  a  great  difference  in  the  expres- 
sion of  the  two  men  who  thus  watched  the  movements  of 
Edmond  Dantes. 


FATHER  AND  SON.  13 


CHAPTER   11. 

FATHER  AND   SON. 

We  will  leave  Danglars  struggling  with  the  feelings  of 
hatred,  and  endeavoring  to  insinuate  in  the  ear  of  the 
ship-owner,  Morrel,  evil  suspicions  against  his  comrade, 
and  follow  Dantes,  who,  after  having  traversed  the 
Canebiere,  took  the  Rue  de  Noailles,  and  entering  into 
a  small  house  situated  on  the  left  side  of  the  Allies  de 
Meillan,  rapidly  ascended  four  stories  of  a  dark  staircase, 
holding  the  haluster  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other 
he  repressed  the  beatings  of  his  heart ;  he  paused  before 
a  half-opened  door,  which  revealed  the  interior  of  a  small 
apartment. 

This  apartment  was  occupied  by  Dantes's  father.  The 
news  of  the  arrival  of  the  "  Pharaon  "  had  not  yet  reached 
the  old  man,  who,  mounted  on  a  chair,  was  amusing  him- 
self by  staking  with  tremulous  hand  some  nasturtiums, 
which,  mingled  with  clematis,  formed  a  kind  of  trellis  at 
his  window.  Suddenly  he  felt  an  arm  thrown  round  his 
body,  and  a  well-known  voice  behind  him  exclaimed, 
"  Father !    dear  father !  " 

The  old  man  uttered  a  cry,  and  turned  round  ;  then, 
seeing  his  son,  he  fell  into  his  arms,  pale  and  trembling. 

"  What  ails  you,  my  dearest  father "?  Are  you  ill  ]  " 
inquired  the  young  man,  much  alarmed. 

"  No,  no,  ray  dear  Edmond  —  my  boy  —  my  son  !  no ; 
but  I  did  not  expect  you  ;  and  joy,  the  surprise  of  seeing 


14  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRTSTO. 

you  so  suddenly  —  Ah  !  I  really  feel  as  if  I  were  going 
to  die." 

"  Come,  come  ;  cheer  up,  my  dear  father !  'T  is  I,  — 
really  I !  They  say  joy  never  hurts,  and  so  I  come  to  you 
without  any  warning.  Come  now,  look  cheerfully  at  me, 
instead  of  gazing  as  you  do  with  wandering  looks.  Here 
I  am  hack  again,  and  we  will  now  be  happy." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  boy,  so  we  will, — so  we  will,"  replied  the 
old  man ;  "  but  how  shall  we  be  happy  1  Will  you  never 
leave  me  again  ]  Come,  tell  me  all  the  good  fortune  that 
has  befallen  you." 

"  God  forgive  me,"  said  the  young  man,  "  for  rejoicing 
at  happiness  derived  from  the  misery  of  others ;  but 
Heaven  knows  I  did  not  seek  this  good  fortune.  It  has 
happened,  and  I  really  cannot  affect  to  lament  it.  The 
good  Captain  Leclere  is  dead.  Father,  and  it  is  probable 
that,  with  the  aid  of  M.  Morrel,  I  shall  have  his  place. 
Do  you  understand,  Father  ]  Only  imagine  me  a  captain 
at  twenty,  with  a  hundred-louis  pay,  and  a  share  in  the 
profits  !  Is  this  not  more  than  a  poor  sailor  like  me  could 
have  hoped  for  1 " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  the  old  man,  —  "yes,  it  is 
very  fortunate." 

"  Well,  then,  with  the  first  money  I  touch,  I  mean  that 
you  shall  have  a  small  house,  with  a  gardea  in  which  to 
plant  your  clematis,  your  nasturtiums,  and  your  honey- 
suckles.   But  what  ails  you,  Father?    Are  you  not  well]" 

"  'T  is  nothing,  nothing  ;  it  will  soon  pass  away  ;  "  and 
as  he  said  so  the  old  man's  strength  failed  him,  and  he  fell 
backwards. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  young  man,  "  a  glass  of  wine, 
Father,  will  revive  you.    Where  do  you  keep  yourwinel" 

*'  No,  no,  thank  you.  You  need  not  look  for  it ;  I  do 
not  want  it,"  said  the  old  man. 


FATHER  AND  SON.  15 

"  Yes,  yes,  Father ;  tell  me  where  it  is,"  and  Dantes 
opened  two  or  three  cupboards. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  there  is  no 
wine." 

"  What  !  no  wine  ? "  said  Dantes,  turning  pale,  and 
looking  alternately  at  the  hollow  cheeks  of  the  old  man 
and  the  empty  cupboards,  —  "  what !  no  wine  ?  Have 
you  wanted  money.  Father  1 " 

"  I  want  nothing  since  I  see  you,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Yet,"  stammered  Dantes,  wiping  the  perspiration  from 
his  brow,  —  "  yet  I  gave  you  two  hundred  livres  when  I 
left,  three  months  ago." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Edmond,  that  is  true  ;  but  you  forgot  at  that 
time  a  little  debt  to  our  neighbor  Caderousse.  He  re- 
minded me  of  it,  telling  me  if  I  did  not  pay  for  you,  he 
would  apply  to  M.  Morrel  j  and  so,  you  see,  lest  he  might 
do  you  an  injury  — " 

"  Well  ] " 

"Why,  I  paid  him." 

"But,"  cried  Dantes,  "it  was  a  hundred  and  forty  livres 
I  owed  Caderousse." 

"  Yes,"  stammered  the  old  man. 

"  And  you  paid  him  out  of  the  two  hundred  livres  1 
left  you?" 

The  old  man  made  a  sign  in  the  affirmative. 

"  So  that  you  have  lived  for  three  months  on  sixty 
livres  !  "  muttered  the  young  man, 

"  You  know  how  little  I  require,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Heaven  pardon  me  ! "  cried  Edmond,  going  on  his 
knees  before  the  old  man. 

"  What  are  you  doing  1 " 

"  You  have  wounded  my  very  heart !  " 

"  Never  mind  it,  for  I  see  you  once  more,"  said  the  old 
man  ;  "and  now  all  is  forgotten,  all  is  well  again." 


16  THE  COUNT   OF   MONTE   CRISTO. 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,"  said  the  young  man,  "  with  a  happy 
pr.  spect  and  a  little  money.  Here,  Father,  here  !"  he 
said,  "  take  this,  —  take  it,  and  send  for  something  imme- 
diately." And  he  emptied  his  pockets  on  the  table,  whose 
contents  consisted  of  a  dozen  pieces  of  gold,  five  or  six 
crowns,  and  some  smaller  coin.  The  countenance  of  old 
Dantes  brightened. 

"  To  whom  does  this  belong  ? "  he  inquired. 

"  To  me  !  to  you  !  to  us !  Take  it ;  buy  some  pro- 
visions.    Be  happy,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  have  more." 

"  Gently,  gently,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  smile ; 
"and  by  your  leave  I  will  use  your  purse  moderately,  — 
for  they  would  say,  if  they  saw  me  buy  too  many  things 
at  a  time,  that  I  had  been  obliged  to  await  your  return  in 
order  to  be  able  to  purchase  them." 

"  Do  as  you  please ;  but  first  of  all,  pray  have  a  ser- 
vant. Father.  I  will  not  have  you  left  alone  so  long.  I 
have  some  smuggled  coffee  and  capital  tobacco  in  a  small 
chest  in  the  hold,  wliich  you  shall  have  to-morrow.  But 
hush!   here  comes  somebody." 

"  'T  is  Caderousse,  who  has  heard  of  your  arrival,  and 
no  doubt  comes  to  congratulate  you  on  your  fortunate 
return." 

"  Ah !  lips  that  say  one  thing,  while  the  heart  thinks 
another,"  murmured  Edmond.  "  But  never  mind,  he  is 
a  neighbor  who  has  done  us  a  service  on  a  time,  so  he  's 
welcome." 

As  Edmond  finished  his  sentence  in  a  low  voice,  there 
appeared  at  the  door  the  black  and  shock  head  of  Cade- 
rousse. He  was  a  man  of  twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years 
of  age,  and  held  in  his  hand  a  piece  of  cloth,  which  in  his 
capacity  as  a  tailor  he  was  about  to  turn  into  the  lining 
of  a  coat. 

"  What !  is  it  you,  Edmond,  returned  ? "  said  he,  with 


FATHER  AND  SON.  17 

a  "broad  Marseillaise  accent,  and  a  grin  that  displayed  his 
teeth  as  white  as  ivory. 

"  Yes,  as  you  see,  neighbor  Caderousse ;  and  ready  to 
he  agreeable  to  you  in  any  and  every  way,"  replied  Dantes, 
hardly  concealing  his  feelings  under  this  appearance  of 
civility. 

"  Thanks,  thanks ;  but  fortunately,  I  do  not  Avant 
for  anything.  It  even  happens  sometimes  that  others  have 
need  of  me."  Dantes  made  a  gesture.  "  I  do  not  allude 
to  you,  my  boy.  No,  no  !  I  lent  you  money,  and  you 
returned  it ;  that 's  like  good  neighbors,  and  we  are 
quits." 

"  We  are  never  quits  with  those  who  oblige  us,"  was 
Dantes's  reply,  —  "  for  when  we  do  not  owe  them  money, 
we  owe  them  gratitude." 

"  What 's  the  use  of  mentioning  that  1  W^hat  is  done 
is  done.  Let  us  talk  of  your  happy  return,  my  boy.  I 
had  gone  on  the  quay  to  match  a  piece  of  mulberry  cloth, 
when  I  met  friend  Danglars.  '  What !  you  at  Marseilles  1 ' 
I  exclaimed.  '  Yes,'  said  he.  '  I  thought  you  were  at 
Smyrna.'  '  I  was  ;  but  am  now  back  again.'  *  And  where 
is  the  dear  boy,  our  little  Edmond  1 '  •'  Why,  with  his 
father,  no  doubt,'  replied  Danglars.  And  so  I  came," 
added  Caderousse,  "  as  fast  as  I  could,  to  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  shaking  hands  with  a  friend." 

"'  Worthy  Caderousse !  "  said  the  old  man  ;  "  he  is  so 
much  attached  to  us  !  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  I  am.  I  love  and  esteem  you,  because 
honest  folks  are  so  rare  !  But  it  seems  you  have  come 
back  rich,  my  boy,"  continued  the  tailor,  looking  askance 
at  the  handful  of  gold  and  silver  which  Dantes  had  thrown 
on  the  table. 

The  young  man  remarked  the  greedy  glance  which 
shone  in  the  dark  eyes  of  his  neighbor.     "  Eh  !  "  he  said 

VOL.    r.  —  2 


18  THE  COUNT   OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

negligently,  "  this  money  is  not  mine  ;  I  was  expressing 
to  my  father  my  fears  that  he  had  wanted  many  things  in 
my  absence,  and  to  convince  me  he  emptied  his  purse  on 
the  table.  Come,  Father,"  added  Dantes,  "  put  this  money 
back  in  your  box,  —  unless  neighbor  Caderousse  wants 
anything,  and  in  that  case  it  is  at  his  service." 

"No,  my  boy,  no,"  said  Caderousse.  "  I  am  not  in 
any  want,  thank  God  !  The  State  nourishes  me.  Keep 
your  money,  —  keep  it,  I  say.  One  never  has  too  much  ; 
but  I  am  as  much  obliged  by  your  offer  as  if  I  took  ad- 
vantage of  it." 

"  It  was  offered  with  good  will,"  said  Bantes. 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt.  Well,  you  stand  well  with  M. 
Morrel,  I  hear,  you  insinuating  dog,  you  ! " 

"  M.  Morrel  has  always  been  exceedingly  kind  to  me," 
replied  Dantes. 

"Then  you  were  wrong  to  refuse  to  dine  with  him." 

"  What !  did  you  refuse  to  dine  with  him  1  "  said  old 
Dantes.     "  Did  he  invite  you  to  dine  1 " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  father,"  replied  Edmond,  smiling  at  his 
father's  astonishment  at  the  high  honor  paid  to  his  son. 

"And  why  did  you  refuse,  my  son?"  inquired  the  old 
man, 

"  That  I  might  the  sooner  see  you  again,  my  dear 
father,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  I  was  most  anxious  to 
see  you." 

"  But  it  must  have  vexed  M.  Morrel,  good,  worthy  man," 
said  Caderousse.  "  And  when  you  are  looking  forward 
to  be  captain,  it  was  wrong  to  annoy  the  owner." 

"  But  I  explained  to  him  the  cause  of  my  refusal,"  re- 
plied Dantes  ;  "  and  I  hope  he  fully  understood  it." 

"  Yes,  but  to  be  captain  one  must  give  way  a  little  to 
one's  patrons." 

"  I  hope  to  be  captain  without  that,"  said  Dantes. 


FATHER  AND  SON.  19 

"  So  much  the  better,  —  so  much  the  better  !  Nothing 
will  give  greater  pleasure  to  all  your  old  friends  ;  and  I 
know  one  down  there  behind  the  citadel  of  St.  Nicolas, 
who  will  not  be  sorry  to  hear  it." 

"  Mercedes  1 "  said  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  father,  and  with  your  permission,  now 
that  I  have  seen  you  and  know  you  are  well  and  have 
all  you  require,  I  will  ask  your  permission  to  go  and  pay 
a  visit  to  the  Catalans." 

"  Go,  my  dear  boy,"  said  old  Dantes ;  "and  may  God 
bless  you  in  your  wife  as  he  has  blessed  me  in  my 
son  !  " 

"  His  wife  !  "  said  Caderousse  ;  "  why,  how  fast  you  go 
on,  Father  Dantes  ;  she  is  not  his  wife  yet,  it  appears." 

"  No,  but  according  to  all  probability  she  soon  will  be," 
replied  Edmond. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Caderousse ;  "  but  you  were  right  to 
return  as  soon  as  possible,  my  boy." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  1  " 

"Because  Mercedes  is  a  very  fine  girl,  and  fine  girls 
never  lack  lovers  ;  she,  particularly,  has  them  by  dozens." 

"  Really  1 "  answered  Edmond,  with  a  smile  which  be- 
trayed a  slight  uneasiness. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  continued  Caderousse,  "  and  capital  offers, 
too ;  but,  you  know,  you  will  be  captain,  and  who  could 
refuse  you  then  1 " 

"  Meaning  to  say,"  replied  Dantes,  with  a  smile  which 
did  not  hide  his  anxiety, "  that  if  I  were  not  a  captain  —  " 

"Eh,  eh!  "  said  Caderousse. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  sailor,  "  I  have  a  better  opinion 
than  you  of  women  in  general,  and  of  Mercedes  in  par- 
ticular ;  and  I  am  certain  that  whether  I  am  captain  or 
not  she  will  remain  ever  faithful  to  me." 

"  So  much  the  better,  —  so  much  the  better,"  said  Cade- 


20  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

rousse.  "  When  one  is  going  to  be  married,  there  is  noth- 
ing like  implicit  confidence.  But  never  mind  that,  my 
hoy  ;  go  and  announce  your  arrival,  and  let  her  share  your 
hopes." 

"  I  will  go  directly,"  was  Edmond's  reply.  He  embraced 
his  father,  made  a  farewell  gesture  to  Caderousse,  and  left 
the  apartment. 

Caderousse  lingered  for  a  moment,  then  taking  leave  of 
old  Dantes,  he  went  downstairs  to  rejoin  Danglars,  who 
awaited  him  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Senac. 

"  Well,"  said  Danglars,  "  did  you  see  himl  " 

"  I  have  just  left  him,"  answered  Caderousse. 

"  Did  he  allude  to  his  hope  of  being  captain  ]  " 

"  He  spoke  of  it  as  a  thing  already  decided." 

"  Patience!  "  said  Danglars,  "  he  is  in  too  much  hurry, 
it  appears  to  me." 

"  Why,  it  seems  M.  Morrel  has  promised  him  the 
thing." 

"  So  that  he  is  quite  elated  about  it  1 " 

"  He  is  actually  insolent  on  the  matter,  has  already 
offered  me  his  patronage  as  if  he  were  a  grand  personage, 
and  proffered  me  a  loan  of  money  as  though  he  were  a 
banker." 

"  Which  you  refused  1  " 

"  Most  assuredly  ;  although  I  might  easily  have  accepted 
it,  for  it  was  I  who  put  into  his  hands  the  first  silver  he 
ever  touched.  But  now  M.  Dantes  has  no  longer  any 
occasion  for  assistance  ;  he  is  about  to  become  a  captain." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Danglars,  "  he  is  not  one  yet." 

"  3Ia  foi  /  and  it  will  be  as  well  he  never  should  be," 
answered  Caderousse,  —  "  for  if  he  should  be,  there  will  be 
really  no  speaking  to  him." 

"  K  we  choose,"  replied  Danglars,  "  he  will  remain  what 
he  is,  perhaps  become  even  less  than  he  is." 


FATHER  AND  SON.  21 

"  What  do  you  mean  1 " 

"  Nothing  ;   I  was  speaking  to  myself.     And  is  he  still 
in  love  with  the  beautiful  Catalane?  " 

**  Over  head  and  ears ;  but  unless  I  am  much  mistaken, 
there  wiU  be  a  storm  in  that  quarter." 
"  Explain  yourself." 
"Why  should  II" 

"  It  is  more  important  than  you  think,  perhaps.     You 
do  not  like  Dantes  ]  " 
"  I  never  like  upstarts." 

"  Then  tell  me  all  you  know  relative  to  the  Catalane.'* 
"  I  know  nothing  for  certain  ;  only  I  have  seen  things 
which  induce  me  to  believe,  as  I  told  you,  that  the  future 
captain  will  find  some  annoyance  in  the  environs  of  the 
Vieilles  Infirmeries." 

"  What  do  you  know  ]     Come,  teU  me  !  " 
"  Well,  every  time  I  have  seen  Mercedes  come  into  the 
city,  she  has  been  accompanied  by  a  tall  strapping  black- 
eyed  Catalan,  with  a  red   complexion,  brown  skin,  and 
fierce  air,  whom  she  calls  cousin." 

"  Really  !  and  do  you  then  think  this  cousin  pays  her 
attentions  1  " 

"  I  only  suppose  so.     What  else  can  a  strapping  chap 
of  twenty-one  mean  with  a  fine  wench  of  seventeen  ?  " 
"  And  you  say  Dantes  has  gone  to  the  Catalans  %  " 
"  He  started  before  I  came  down." 
"  Let  us  go  the  same  way ;  we  will  stop  at  La  Reserve, 
and  while  we  drink  a  glass  of  La  Malgue,  we  will  wait  for 
news." 

"  Come  along,"  said  Caderousse ;  "  but  mind  you  pay 
the  shot." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Danglars  ;  and  going  quickly  to 
the  spot  alluded  to,  they  called  for  a  bottle  of  wine  and 
two  glasses. 


22  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Pere  Pamphile  had  seen  Dantes  pass  not  ten  minutes 
"before.  Assured  that  he  was  at  the  Catalans,  they  sat 
down  under  the  budding  foliage  of  the  planes  and  syca- 
mores, in  the  branches  of  which  a  lively  chorus  of  birds 
were  celebrating  one  of  the  first  fine  days  of  spring. 


THE  CATALANS.  23 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   CATALANS. 

About  a  hundred  paces  from  the  spot  where  the  two 
friends,  with  their  looks  fixed  on  the  distance  and  their 
ears  attentive,  imbibed  the  sparkHng  wine  of  La  Malgue, 
behind  a  bare  and  weather-worn  wall  was  the  village  of 
the  Catalans.  One  day  a  mysterious  colony  quitted  Spain, 
and  settled  on  the  tongue  of  land  on  which  it  remains  to 
this  day.  It  arrived  from  no  one  knew  where,  and  spoke 
an  unknown  tongue.  One  of  its  chiefs,  who  understood 
Proven9al,  begged  the  commune  of  Marseilles  to  give  them 
this  bare  and  barren  promontory,  on  which,  like  the 
sailors  of  the  ancient  times,  they  had  run  their  boats 
ashore.  The  request  was  granted ;  and  three  months 
afterwards,  around  the  twelve  or  fifteen  small  vessels 
which  had  brought  these  gypsies  of  the  sea,  a  small 
village  sprang  up.  This  village,  constructed  in  a  sin- 
gular and  picturesque  manner,  half  Moorish,  half  Span- 
ish, is  that  which  we  behold  at  the  present  day,  inhabited 
by  the  descendants  of  those  men,  who  speak  the  language 
of  their  fathers.  For  three  or  four  centuries  they  have 
loyally  clung  to  this  small  promontory,  on  which  they 
had  settled  like  a  flight  of  sea-birds,  without  mixing  with 
the  Marseillaise  population,  intermarrying  among  them- 
selves and  preserving  their  original  customs  and  the 
costume  of  their  mother-country,  as  they  have  preserved 
its  language. 

Our  readers  will  follow  us  along  the  only  street  of  this 


24  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

little  village,  and  enter  with  us  one  of  the  houses,  on  the 
outside  of  which  the  sun  had  stamjDed  that  beautiful  color 
of  the  dead  leaf  peculiar  to  the  buildings  of  the  country, 
and  which,  within,  was  coated  with  limewash,  of  that 
white  tint  which  forms  the  only  ornament  of  Spanish 
2)osadas.  A  young  and  beautiful  girl,  with  hair  as  black 
as  jet,  her  eyes  as  velvety  as  the  gazelle's,  was  leaning 
with  her  back  against  the  wainscot,  rubbing  in  her  slender 
fingers,  moulded  after  the  antique,  a  bunch  of  heath- 
blossoms,  the  flowers  of  which  she  was  picking  off  and 
strewing  on  the  floor ;  her  arms,  bare  to  the  elbow,  em- 
browned, and  resembling  those  of  the  Venus  at  Aries, 
moved  with  a  kind  of  restless  impatience,  and  she  tapped 
the  earth  with  her  pliant  and  well-formed  foot  so  as  to 
display  the  pure  and  full  shape  of  her  well-turned  leg,  iu 
its  red  cotton  stocking  with  gray  and  blue  clocks.  At 
three  paces  from  her,  seated  in  a  chair  which  he  balanced 
on  two  legs,  leaning  his  elbow  on  an  old  worm-eaten, 
table,  was  a  tall  young  man  of  twenty  or  two-and-twenty, 
who  was  looking  at  her  with  an  air  in  which  vexation  and 
uneasiness  were  mingled.  He  questioned  her  with  his 
eyes,  but  the  firm  and  steady  gaze  of  the  young  girl 
controlled  his  look. 

"  You  see,  Mercedes,"  said  the  young  man,  "  here  is 
Easter  come  round  again  ;  tell  me,  is  it  not  a  good  time 
for  a  wedding  1" 

"  I  have  answered  you  a  hundred  times,  Fernand  ;  and 
really  you  must  be  your  own  enemy  to  ask  me  again." 

"  Well,  repeat  it,  —  repeat  it,  I  beg  of  you,  that  I  may 
at  last  believe  it !  Tell  me  for  the  hundredth  time  that 
you  refuse  my  love,  which  had  your  mother's  sanction. 
Make  me  fully  comprehend  that  you  are  trifling  with  my 
happiness,  that  my  life  or  death  are  immaterial  to  you. 
Ah  !  to  have  dreamed  for  ten  years  of  being  your  bus- 


THE  CATALANS.  25 

band,  Mercedes,  and  to  lose  that  hope,  which  was  the 
sole  aim  of  my  existence  ! " 

"  At  least  it  was  not  I  who  ever  encouraged  you  in  that 
hope,  Fernand,"  replied  Mercedes  ;  "  you  cannot  reproach 
me  with  the  slightest  coquetry.  I  have  always  said  to 
you,  *  I  love  you  as  a  brother ;  but  do  not  ask  from  me 
more  than  sisterly  affection,  for  my  heart  is  another's.' 
Have  I  not  always  told  you  that,  Fernand  ] " 

**  Yes,  I  know  it  well,  Mercedes,"  replied  the  young 
man.  "  Yes,  you  have  been  cruelly  frank  with  me ;  but 
do  you  forget  that  it  is  among  the  Catalans  a  sacred  law 
to  intermarry  1 " 

"  You  mistake,  Fernand,  it  is  not  a  law,  but  merely  a 
custom ;  and,  I  pray  of  you,  do  not  cite  this  custom  in 
your  favor.  You  are  included  in  the  conscription,  Fer- 
nand, and  are  at  liberty  only  on  sufferance,  liable  at  any 
moment  to  be  called  upon  to  take  up  arms.  Once  a 
soldier,  what  would  you  do  with  me,  —  a  poor  orphan, 
forlorn,  without  fortune,  with  nothing  but  a  hut  half  in 
ruins,  containing  some  ragged  nets,  a  miserable  inheritance 
left  by  my  father  to  my  mother,  and  by  my  mother  to 
me  1  She  has  been  dead  a  year,  and  you  know,  Fernand, 
I  have  subsisted  almost  entirely  on  public  charity.  Some- 
times you  pretend  I  am  useful  to  you,  and  that  is  an 
excuse  to  share  with  me  the  produce  of  your  fishing ;  and 
I  accept  it,  Fernand,  because  you  are  the  son  of  my 
father's  brother,  because  we  were  brought  up  together,  and 
still  more  because  it  would  give  you  so  much  pain  if  1 1 
refused.  But  I  feel  very  deeply  that  this  fish  which  I  go 
and  sell,  and  with  the  produce  of  which  I  buy  the  flax  I 
spin,  —  I  feel  very  keenly,  Fernand,  that  this  is  charity." 

"  And  if  it  were,  Mercedes,  poor  and  lone  as  you  are, 
you  suit  me  as  well  as  the  daughter  of  the  proudest  ship- 
owner, or  of  the  richest  banker  of  Marseilles  !     What  do 


26  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

such  as  we  desire  but  an  honest  woman  and  careful 
housekeeper ;  and  where  can  I  find  any  one  better  than 
you  in  both  these  particulars  1 " 

"  Feruand,"  answered  Mercedes,  shaking  her  head,  "  a 
woman  may  become  a  bad  manager;  and  who  shall  say  she 
will  remain  an  honest  woman  when  she  loves  another  man 
better  than  her  husband  1  Rest  content  with  my  friend- 
ship, for  I  repeat  to  you  that  it  is  all  I  can  promise,  and 
I  will  promise  no  more  than  I  can  bestow." 

**  I  understand,"  replied  Fernand ;  "  you  can  endure 
your  own  wretchedness  patiently,  but  you  are  afraid  of 
mine.  Well,  Mercedes,  beloved  by  you,  I  would  tempt 
fortune ;  you  would  bring  me  good  luck,  and  I  should 
become  rich.  I  could  extend  my  occupation  as  a  fisher- 
man, might  get  a  place  as  clerk  in  a  warehouse,  and 
become  myself  a  dealer  in  time." 

"  You  could  do  no  such  thing,  Fernand ;  you  are  a 
soldier,  and  if  you  remain  at  the  Catalans  it  is  because 
there  is  no  war.  Continue,  then,  to  be  a  fisherman ; 
don't  cherish  dreams  which  will  make  the  reality  still 
more  intolerable.  Be  content  with  my  friendship,  since 
I  cannot  give  you  more." 

"  Well,  you  are  right,  Mercedes.  I  will  be  a  sailor ;  in- 
stead of  the  costume  of  our  fathers,  which  you  despise, 
I  will  wear  a  varnished  hat,  a  striped  shirt,  and  a  blue 
jacket,  with  an  anchor  on  the  buttons.  Would  not  that 
dress  please  you  1  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  1 "  asked  Mercedes,  darting  at  him 
an  angry  glance,  —  "  what  do  you  mean  ]  I  do  not  un- 
derstand you." 

"  I  mean,  Mercedes,  that  you  are  thus  harsh  and  cruel 
with  me  because  you  are  expecting  some  one  who  is  thus 
attired  ;  but  perhaps  he  whom  you  await  is  inconstant,  or 
if  he  is  not,  the  sea  is  so  to  him." 


THE  CATALANS.  27 

"  Fernaiid  !  "  cried  Mercedes,  "  I  believed  you  were 
good-hearted,  and  I  was  mistaken  !  Fernand,  you  are 
wicked  to  call  to  your  aid  jealousy  and  the  anger  of  God  ! 
Yes,  I  will  not  deny  it,  I  do  await,  and  I  do  love  him  to 
whom  you  allude ;  and  if  he  does  not  return,  instead  of 
accusing  him  of  the  inconstancy  which  you  insinuate,  I 
shall  maintain  that  he  died  loving  me  and  me  only." 

The  young  Catalan  made  a  gesture  of  rage. 

"  I  understand  you,  Fernand  :  you  would  be  revenged 
on  him  because  I  do  not  love  you ;  you  would  cross  your 
Catalan  knife  with  his  dirk.  What  end  would  that  an- 
swer? You  would  lose  my  friendship  if  you  were  con- 
quered, and  would  see  that  friendship  changed  into  hate 
if  you  were  conqueror.  Believe  me,  to  seek  a  quarrel 
with  a  man  is  a  bad  way  to  please  the  woman  who  loves 
that  man.  No,  Fernand,  you  will  not  thus  give  way  to 
evil  thoughts.  Unable  to  have  me  for  your  wife,  you  will 
content  yourself  with  having  me  for  your  friend  and  sister; 
and  besides,"  she  added,  her  eyes  troubled  and  moistened 
with  tears,  "  wait,  wait,  Fernand  !  You  said  just  now  that 
the  sea  was  treacherous,  and  he  has  been  gone  four  months, 
and  during  these  four  months  we  have  had  some  terrible 
storms." 

Fernand  made  no  reply,  nor  did  he  attempt  to  check 
the  tears  which  flowed  down  the  cheeks  of  Mercedes,  al- 
though for  each  of  these  tears  he  would  have  shed  his 
heart's  blood ;  but  these  tears  flowed  for  another.  He 
arose,  paced  awhile  up  and  down  the  hut,  and  then  sud- 
denly stopping  before  Mercedes,  with  his  eyes  gloAving 
and  his  hands  clinched,  "Say,  Mercedes,"  he  said,  "once 
for  all,  is  this  your  final  determination  1  " 

"  I  love  Edmond  Dantes,"  the  young  girl  calmly  re- 
plied, "  and  none  but  Edmond  shall  be  my  husband." 

"  And  you  will  always  love  him  1 " 


28  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"As  long  as  I  live." 

Fernand  lowered  his  head  like  a  defeated  man,  heaved 
a  sigh  which  resembled  a  groan,  and  then  suddenly  look- 
ing her  full  in  the  face,  with  clinched  teeth  and  expanded 
nostrils,  said,  "  But  if  he  is  dead  —  " 

"  If  he  is  dead,  I  shall  die  too." 

"  If  he  has  forgotten  you  —  " 

"  Mercedes  !  "  cried  a  voice,  joyously,  outside  the  house, 
"  Mercedes  ! " 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  blushing  with  de- 
light, and  springing  up  with  love,  "you  see  he  has  not 
forgotten  me,  for  here  he  is  ! "  And  rushing  towards 
the  door,  she  opened  it,  saying,  "  Here,  Edmond,  here 
I  am  ! " 

Fernand,  pale  and  trembling,  fell  back,  like  a  traveller 
at  the  sight  of  a  serpent,  and  stumbling  against  his  chair, 
dropped  into  it.  Edmond  and  Mercedes  were  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms.  The  burning  sun  of  Marseilles,  which 
penetrated  the  room  by  the  open  door,  covered  them  with 
a  flood  of  light.  At  iirst  they  saw  nothing  around  them. 
Their  intense  happiness  isolated  them  from  all  the  rest  of 
the  world,  and  they  spoke  only  in  broken  words,  which 
are  the  tokens  of  a  joy  so  extreme  that  they  seem  rather 
the  expression  of  sorrow.  Suddenly  Edmond  saw  the 
gloomy  countenance  of  Fernand,  as  it  was  defined  in  the 
shadow,  pale  and  threatening  ;  and  by  a  movement  for 
which  he  could  scarcely  account  to  himself,  the  young 
Catalan  placed  his  hand  on  the  knife  at  his  belt. 

"  Ah  !  your  pardon ! "  said  Dantes,  frowning  in  his 
turn ;  "  I  did  not  perceive  that  there  were  three  of 
us."  Then,  turning  to  Mercedes,  he  inquired,  "  Who 
is  this  gentleman  ]  " 

"  One  who  will  be  your  best  friend,  Dantes,  for  he  is 
my  friend,  my  cousin,  my  brother ;  it  is  Fernand,  —  the 


THE  CATALANS.  29 

man  whom,  after  you,  Edmond,  I  love  the  best  in  the 
world.     Do  you  not  remember  him  1 " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Edmond,  and  without  relinquishing  Mer- 
cedes's hand,  clasped  in  one  of  his  own,  he  extended  the 
other  to  the  Catalan  with  a  cordial  air.  But  Fernand, 
instead  of  responding  to  this  friendly  gesture,  remained 
silent  and  immovable  as  a  statue.  Edmond  then  cast  his 
eyes  scrutinizingly  at  Mercedes,  agitated  and  embarrassed, 
and  again  on  Fernand,  gloomy  and  menacing.  This  look 
told  him  all,  and  his  brow  became  suffused  and  angry, 

"  I  did  not  know  when  I  came  with  such  haste  to  you 
that  I  was  to  meet  an  enemy  here." 

"  An  enemy  ! "  cried  Mercedes,  with  an  angry  look 
at  her  cousin.  "  An  enemy  in  my  house,  do  you  say, 
Edmond?  If  I  believed  that,  I  would  place  my  arm 
under  yours  and  go  with  you  to  Marseilles,  leaving  the 
house  to  return  to  it  no  more." 

Fernand's  eye  darted  lightning. 

"And  should  any  misfortune  occur  to  you,  dear  Ed- 
mond," she  continued  with  the  same  calmness,  which 
proved  to  Fernand  that  the  young  girl  had  read  the  very 
innermost  depths  of  his  sinister  thought,  —  "  if  misfortune 
should  occur  to  you,  I  would  ascend  the  highest  point  of 
Cape  Morgion,  and  cast  myself  headlong  from  it." 

Fernand  became  deadly  pale. 

"But  you  are  deceived,  Edmond,"  she  continued. 
"  You  have  no  enemy  here  —  there  is  no  one  but  Fer- 
nand, my  brother,  who  will  grasp  your  hand  as  a  devoted 
friend." 

And  at  these  words  the  young  girl  fixed  her  imperious 
look  on  the  Catalan,  who,  as  if  fascinated  by  it,  came 
slowly  towards  Edmond,  and  otfered  him  his  hand.  His 
hatred,  like  a  powerless  though  furious  wave,  was  broken 
against  the  strong  ascendency  which  Mercedes  exercised 


30  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

over  him.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  touched  Edmond's 
hand  when  he  felt  that  he  had  done  all  he  could  do,  and 
rushed  hastily  out  of  the  house. 

"  Oh ! "  he  exclaimed,  running  like  a  madman,  and  plung- 
ing his  hands  into  his  hair,  —  "  oh  !  who  will  deliver  me 
from  this  man  1     Wretched,  wretched  that  I  am  1 " 

"  Holloa,  Catalan  !  Holloa,  Fernand  !  where  are  you 
going  1 "  exclaimed  a  voice. 

The  young  man  stopped  suddenly,  looked  around  him, 
and  perceived  Caderousse  sitting  at  table  with  Danglars 
under  an  arbor. 

"Well,"  said  Caderousse,  "why  don't  you  come?  Are 
you  really  in  such  a  hurry  that  you  have  no  time  to  say 
'Good-day '  to  your  friends  ]  " 

"  Particularly  when  they  have  still  a  full  bottle  before 
them,"  added  Danglars. 

Fernand  looked  at  them  both  with  a  stupefied  air,  but 
did  not  say  a  word. 

"  He  seems  besotted,"  said  Danglars,  pushing  Caderousse 
with  his  knee.  "  Are  we  mistaken,  and  is  Dantes  trium- 
phant in  spite  of  all  we  have  believed  1 " 

"Why,  we  must  inquire  into  that,"  was  Caderousse's 
reply;  and  turning  towards  the  young  man,  he  said, 
"  Well,  Catalan,  can't  you  make  up  your  mind  1 " 

Fernand  wiped  away  the  perspiration  streaming  from  his 
brow,  and  slowly  entered  the  arbor,  whose  shade  seemed 
to  restore  somewhat  of  calmness  to  his  senses,  and  whose 
coolness  refreshed  his  exhausted  body. 

"  Good-day,"  said  he.  "  You  called  me,  did  n't  you  1 " 
And  he  fell,  rather  than  sat  down,  on  one  of  the  seats 
which  surrounded  the  table. 

"  I  called  you  because  you  were  running  like  a  mad- 
man, and  I  was  afraid  you  would  throw  yourself  into  the 
sea,"  said  Caderousse,  laughing.     "  The  devil !    when  a 


THE  CATALANS.  31 

man  has  friends,  they  are  not  only  to  offer  him  a  glass  of 
wine,  but,  moreover,  to  prevent  his  swallowing  three  or 
four  pints  of  water  unnecessarily  !  " 

Fernand  gave  a  groan  which  resembled  a  sob,  and 
dropped  his  head  into  his  hands,  his  elbows  leaning  on 
the  table. 

"  Well,  Fernand,  I  must  say,"  said  Caderousse,  begin- 
ning the  conversation  with  that  brutality  of  the  common 
people  in  which  curiosity  destroys  all  diplomacy,  "you 
look  uncommonly  like  a  rejected  lover ; "  and  he  burst 
into  a  hoarse  laugh. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Danglars,  "  a  lad  of  his  make  was  not 
born  to  be  unhappy  in  love.  You  are  laughing  at  him, 
Caderousse ! " 

*'  No,"  he  replied,  "  only  listen  to  his  sighs  !  Come, 
come,  Fernand !  "  said  Caderousse,  "  hold  up  your  head, 
and  answer  us.  It's  not  polite  not  to  reply  to  friends 
who  ask  news  of  your  health."  » 

"  My  health  is  well  enough,"  said  Fernand,  clinching 
his  hands  without  raising  his  head. 

"Ah!  you  see,  Danglars,"  said  Caderousse,  winking  at 
his  friend,  "  this  it  is :  Fernand,  whom  you  see  here,  is  a 
good  and  brave  Catalan,  one  of  the  best  fishermen  in  Mar- 
seilles, and  he  is  in  love  with  a  very  fine  girl  named  Mer- 
cedes ;  but  it  appears,  unfortunately,  that  the  fine  girl  is 
in  love  with  the  second  in  command  on  board  the  '  Pha- 
raon,'  and  as  the  '  Pharaon '  arrived  to-day  —  why,  you 
understand ! " 

"No,  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Danglars. 

"Poor  Fernand  has  been  dismissed,"  continued 
Caderousse. 

"  Well,  and  what  then  1 "  said  Fernand,  lifting  up  his 
head,  and  looking  at  Caderousse  like  a  man  who  looks  for 
some  one  on  whom  to  vent  his  anger.     "  Mercedes  is  not 


32  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

accountable  to  any  person,  is  she  1  Is  she  not  free  to  love 
whomsoever  she  will  1 " 

"  Oh !  if  you  take  it  in  that  sense,"  said  Caderousse,  "  it 
is  another  thing !  But  I  thought  you  were  a  Catalan,  and 
they  told  me  the  Catalans  were  not  men  to  allow  them- 
selves to  be  supplanted  by  a  rival.  It  was  even  told  me 
that  Fernand,  especially,  was  terrible  in  his  vengeance." 

Fernand  smiled  piteously.  "  A  lover  is  never  terrible," 
he  said. 

"  Poor  fellow !  "  remarked  Danglars,  affecting  to  pity 
the  young  man  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  "  Why, 
you  see,  he  did  not  expect  to  see  Dantes  return  so  sud- 
denly. He  thought  he  was  dead,  perhaps  ;  or  perchance 
faithless  !  These  things  always  come  on  us  more  severely 
when  they  come  suddenly." 

"  Ah,  ma  foi,  under  any  circumstances,"  said  Cade- 
rousse,  who  drank  as  he  spoke,  and  on  whom  the  fumes  of 
the  wine  of  La  Malgue  began  to  take  effect,  —  "  under 
any  circumstances  Fernand  is  not  the  only  person  put  out 
by  the  fortunate  arrival  of  Dantes  ;  is  he,  Danglars  1 " 

"No,  you  are  right;  and  I  should  say  that  would  bring 
him  ill  luck." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  answered  Caderousse,  pouring  out 
a  glass  of  wine  for  Fernand,  and  filling  his  own  for  the 
eighth  or  ninth  time,  while  Danglars  had  merely  sipped 
his.  "  Never  mind ;  in  the  mean  time  he  marries  Mer- 
cedes, the  lovely  Mercedes,  —  at  least,  he  returns  to  do 
that." 

During  this  time  Danglars  fixed  his  piercing  glance  on 
the  young  man,  on  whose  heart  Caderousse's  words  fell 
like  molten  lead. 

"  And  when  is  the  wedding  to  be  1  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  yet  fixed  !  "  murmured  Fernand. 

"No,  but  it  will  be,"  said  Caderousse,  "as  surely  as 


THE  CATALANS.  33 

that  Dantea  will  te  captain  of  the  '  Pharaon ; '  eh, 
Danglars  ] " 

Danglars  shuddered  at  this  unexpected  attack,  and 
turned  to  Caderousse,  whose  countenance  he  scrutinized, 
to  discover  whether  the  blow  was  premeditated ;  but  he 
read  nothing  but  envy  in  a  countenance  already  rendered 
brutal  and  stupid  by  drunkenness. 

**  Well,"  said  he,  filling  the  glasses,  "  let  us  drink 
to  Capt.  Edmond  Dantes,  husband  of  the  beautiful 
Catalane  !  " 

Caderousse  raised  his  glass  to  his  mouth  with  unsteady 
hand,  and  swallowed  the  contents  at  a  gulp.  Fernand 
dashed  his  on  the  ground. 

"  Eh,  eh,  eh  !  "  stammered  Caderousse.  "  What  do  I 
see  down  there  by  the  wall  in  the  direction  of  the  Cata- 
lans 1  Look,  Fernand  !  your  eyes  are  better  than  mine. 
I  believe  I  see  double.  You  know  wine  is  a  deceiver ; 
but  I  should  say  it  was  two  lovers  walking  side  by  side, 
and  hand  in  hand.  Heaven  forgive  me  !  they  do  not 
know  that  we  can  see  them,  and  they  are  actually 
embracing  ! " 

Danglars  did  not  lose  one  pang  that  Fernand  endured. 

"  Do  you  know  them,  M.  Fernand  1  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  low  voice.  "  It  is  M.  Ed- 
mond and  Mademoiselle  Mercedes  !  " 

"  Ah  !  see  there,  now  !  "  said  Caderousse  ;  "  and  I  did 
not  recognize  them  !  Holloa,  Dantes  !  holloa,  lovely  dam- 
sel !  Come  this  way,  and  let  us  know  when  the  wedding 
is  to  be,  for  M.  Fernand  here  is  so  obstinate  he  will  not 
tell  us ! " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  will  you  1 "  said  Danglars,  pre- 
tending to  restrain  Caderousse,  who,  with  the  tenacity  of 
drunkards,  leaned  out  of  the  arbor.  "  Try  to  stand  up- 
right, and  let  the  lovers  make  love  without  interruption. 

VOL.   I.  —  3 


34  THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRISTO. 

See,  look  at  M.  Fernand,  and  follow  his  example  ;  he  is 
well-behaved !  " 

Fernand,  probably  excited  beyond  bearing,  pricked  by 
Danglars,  as  the  bull  is  by  the  banderilleros,  was  about  to 
rush  out ;  for  he  had  risen  from  his  seat,  and  seemed  to 
be  collecting  himself  to  dash  headlong^  upon  his  rival, 
when  Mercedes,  smiling  and  graceful,  lifted  up  her  lovely 
head  and  showed  her  clear,  bright  eyes.  At  this  Fernand 
recollected  her  threat  of  dying  if  Edmond  died,  and 
dropped  again  heavily  on  his  seat.  Danglars  looked  at 
the  two  men,  one  after  the  other,  the  one  brutalized  by 
liquor,  the  other  overwhelmed  with  love. 

"  I  shall  extract  nothing  from  these  fools,"  he  mut- 
tered ;  "  and  I  am  very  much  afraid  of  being  here  between 
a  drunkard  and  a  coward.  Yet  this  Catalan  has  eyes  that 
glisten  like  the  Spaniards,  Sicilians,  and  Calabrians,  who 
practise  revenge  so  well.  Unquestionably  Edmond's  star 
is  in  the  ascendant,  and  he  will  marry  the  splendid  girl ; 
he  will  be  captain,  too,  and  laugh  at  us  all,  unless  — " 
a  sinister  smile  passed  over  Danglars's  lips  —  "  unless  I 
mingle  in  the  ati'air,"  he  added. 

"  Holloa !  "  continued  Caderousse,  half  rising,  and  with 
his  fist  on  the  table,  —  "  holloa,  Edmond  !  do  you  not  see 
your  friends,  or  are  you  too  proud  to  speak  to  them  ? " 

"  No,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Dantes,  "  I  am  not 
proud,  but  I  am  happy ;  and  happiness  blinds,  I  think, 
more  than  pride." 

"  Ah  !  very  weU,  that 's  an  explanation  !  "  said  Cade- 
rousse.    "  Well,  good-day,  Madame  Dantes  !  " 

Mercedes  bowed  gravely,  and  said,  "  That  is  not  my 
name ;  and  in  my  country  it  bodes  iU  fortune,  they  say, 
to  call  a  young  girl  by  the  name  of  her  betrothed  before 
he  becomes  her  husband.  Call  me,  then,  Mercedes,  if 
you  please." 


THE  CATALANS.  35 

"We  must  excuse  our  worthy  neighbor  Caderousse," 
said  Dantes,  "  he  is  so  easily  mistaken." 

*'  So,  then,  the  wedding  is  to  take  place  immediately, 
M.  Dantes,"  said  Danglars,  bowing  to  the  young  couple. 
■  "As  soon  as  possible,  M.  Danglars ;  to-day  all  prelim- 
inaries will  be  arranged  at  my  father's,  and  to-morrow,  or 
next  day  at  latest,  the  wedding  festival  will  take  place 
here  at  La  Reserve.  My  friends  will  be  there,  I  hope ; 
that  is  to  say,  you  are  invited,  M.  Danglars,  and  you, 
Caderousse." 

"  And  Fernand,"  said  Caderousse,  with  a  chuckle, 
"  Fernand,  too,  is  invited  1 " 

"My  wife's  brother  is  my  brother,"  said  Edmond; 
"and  we,  Mercedes  and  I,  should  be  very  sorry  if  he 
were  absent  at  such  a  time." 

Fernand  opened  his  mouth  to  reply,  but  his  voice  died 
on  his  lips,  and  he  could  not  utter  a  word. 

"To-day  the  preliminaries,  to-morrow  or  next  day 
the  ceremony  !  you  are  in  a  hurry,  Captain  !  " 

"  Danglars,"  said  Edmond,  smiling,  "  I  will  say  to  you 
as  Mercedes  said  just  now  to  Caderousse,  '  Do  not  give 
me  a  title  which  does  not  belong  to  me ; '  that  may  bring 
me  bad  luck." 

"  Your  pardon,"  replied  Danglars  ;  "  I  merely  said  you 
seemed  in  a  hurry.  We  have  lots  of  time,  —  the  '  Pharaon ' 
cannot  be  ready  to  sail  in  less  than  three  months." 

"  We  are  always  in  a  hurry  to  be  happy,  M.  Danglars, 
for  when  we  have  suffered  a  long  time,  we  have  great 
difficulty  in  believing  in  good  fortune.  But  it  is  not  sel- 
fishness alone  that  makes  me  thus  in  haste ;  I  must  go 
to  Paris." 

"  To  Paris  ?  really  I  and  will  it  be  your  first  visit  there, 
Dantes  1 " 

"  Yes." 


36  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Have  you  business  there  1 " 

"  Not  of  my  own  ;  the  last  commission  of  poor  Cap- 
tain Leclere.  You  know  to  what  I  allude,  Danglars ;  it 
is  sacred.  Besides,  I  shall  only  take  the  time  to  go  and 
return." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  said  Danglars;  and  then  in 
a  low  tone  he  added,  "To  Paris,  no  doubt,  to  deliver 
the  letter  which  the  grand-marshal  gave  him.  Ah  !  this 
letter  gives  me  an  idea,  a  capital  idea !  Ah,  Dantes, 
my  friend,  you  are  not  yet  registered  Number  One  on 
the  good  ship  *  Pharaon ; '  "  then  turning  towards  Ed- 
mond,  who  was  walking  away,  "Bon  voyage  1"  he 
cried. 

''  Thank  you,"  said  Edmond,  with  a  friendly  nod ;  and 
the  two  lovers  continued  their  route,  calm  and  joyous. 


CONSPIRACY.  37 


CHAPTER  ly. 

CONSPIRACY. 

Danglars  followed  Edmond  and  Mercedes  with  his  eyes 
until  the  two  lovers  disappeared  behind  one  of  the  angles 
of  Fort  St.  Nicolas;  then  turning  round,  he  perceived 
Fernand,  who  had  fallen,  pale  and  trembling,  into  his 
chair,  while  Caderousse  stammered  out  the  words  of  a 
drinking-song. 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Danglars  to  Fernand,  "  here 
is  a  marriage  which  does  not  appear  to  make  everybody 
happy." 

"  It  drives  me  to  despair,"  said  Fernand. 

"  Do  you,  then,  love  Mercedes  ? " 

*'  I  adore  her  !  " 

"  Have  you  loved  her  long  1 " 

"  Ever  since  I  have  known  her." 

"  And  you  sit  there,  tearing  your  hair,  instead  of  seek- 
ing a  remedy.  The  devil !  I  did  not  think  that  people 
of  your  race  would  act  in  this  way." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  1 "  said  Fernand. 

"  How  do  I  know  1  Is  it  my  affair  ?  I  am  not  in  love 
with  Mademoiselle  Mercedes, — it  is  you.  *  Seek,' says 
the  Gospel,  '  and  you  shall  find.* " 

"  I  have  found  abeady." 

"Whatr' 

"  I  would  have  stabbed  the  man,  but  the  woman  told 
me  that  if  any  misfortune  happened  to  her  betrothed  she 
would  kill  herself." 


38  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CKISTO. 

"  Pooh  !  women  say  those  things,  hut  never  do  them." 

"  You  do  not  know  Mercedes  ;  what  she  threatens  she 
wiU  do." 

"  Idiot !  "  muttered  Danglars ;  "  whether  she  kill  herself 
or  not  what  matter,  provided  Dantes  is  not  captain  1 " 

"Eather  than  Mercedes  should  die,"  replied  Fernand, 
with  the  accents  of  unshaken  resolution,  "I  would  die 
myself !  " 

"  That 's  what  I  call  love  ! "  said  Caderousse,  with  a 
voice  more  tipsy  than  ever.  "That's  love,  or  I  don't 
know  what  love  is." 

"Come,"  said  Danglars,  "you  appear  to  me  a  good  sort 
of  fellow,  and  the  devil  take  me,  I  should  like  to  help  you, 
but  —  " 

"Yes,"  said  Caderousse,  "hut  how?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Danglars,  "  you  are  three 
parts  drunk  ;  finish  the  hottle,  and  you  will  be  completely 
so.  Drink,  then,  and  do  not  meddle  with  what  we  are  dis- 
cussing, for  that  requires  all  one's  wit  and  cool  judgment." 

"  I  drunk  !  "  said  Caderousse  ;  "  well,  that 's  a  good 
one  !  I  could  drink  four  more  such  bottles ;  they  are  no 
bigger  than  eau-de-cologne  flasks.  Pere  Pamphile,  more 
•wine  ! "  and  Caderousse  rattled  his  glass  upon  the  table. 

"You  were  saying.  Monsieur?"  said  Fernand,  await- 
ing with  great  anxiety  the  end  of  the  interrupted  remark. 

"  What  was  I  saying  1  I  forget.  This  drunken  Cade- 
rousse has  made  me  lose  the  thread  of  my  thoughts." 

"  Drunk,  if  you  like ;  so  much  the  worse  for  those  who 
fear  wine,  for  it  is  because  they  have  some  evil  thought 
which  they  are  afraid  the  liquor  will  extract  from  their 
hearts  ; "  and  Caderousse  began  to  sing  the  last  two  lines 
of  a  song  very  popular  at  the  time  :  — 

"  '  All  the  wicked  are  drinkers  of  water  ; 
That  is  well  proved  by  the  Deluge.'  " 


CONSPIRACY.  39 

"  You  said,  Monsieur,  that  you  would  like  to  help  me, 
but—" 

"  Yes ;  but  I  was  about  to  add,  to  help  you  it  would 
be  sufficient  that  Dantes  did  not  marry  her  you  love. 
And  the  marriage  may  easily  be  thwarted,  methinks,  and 
yet  Dantes  need  not  die." 

"  Death  alone  can  separate  them,"  remarked  Fernand. 
"  You  talk  like  a  noodle,  my  friend,"  said  Caderousse  ; 
"here  is  Danglars,  who  is  a  wide-awake,  clever,  deep  fel- 
low, who  will  prove  to  you  that  you  are  wrong.  Prove 
it,  Danglars.  I  have  answered  for  you.  Say  there  is  no 
need  that  Dantes  should  die ;  it  would,  indeed,  be  a  pity 
if  he  should.  Dantes  is  a  good  fellow.  I  like  Dantes  • 
Dantes,  your  health  !  " 

Fernand  rose  impatiently.  "Let  him  run  on,"  said 
Danglars,  restraining  the  young  man ;  "  drunk  as  he  is, 
he  is  not  much  out  in  what  he  says.  Absence  severs  as 
well  as  death,  and  if  the  walls  of  a  prison  were  between 
Edmond  and  Mercedes  they  would  be  as  effectually  sepa- 
rated as  if  he  lay  under  a  tombstone." 

"Yes;  but  one  gets  out  of  prison,"  said  Caderousse, 
who,  with  what  sense  was  left  him,  Hstened  eagerly  to 
the  conversation;  "and  when  he  gets  out,  if  his  name  is 
Edmond  Dantes,  he  revenges  —  " 

"  What  matters  thatl  "  muttered  Fernand. 
"And  why,  I  should  like  to  know,"  persisted  Cade- 
rousse, "  should  they  put  Dantes  in  prison  1   He  has  neither 
robbed  nor  killed  nor  murdered." 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  said  Danglars. 
"  I  won't  hold  my  tongue  !  "  replied  Caderousse  ;  "  I 
say   I  want  to   know  why  they  should   put   Dantes    in 
prison.     I  like  Dantes ;   Dantes,  your  health !  "   and  he 
swallowed  another  glass  of  wine. 

Danglars  saw  in  the  muddled  look  of  the  tailor  the 


40  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 

progress  of  his  intoxication,  and  turning  towards  Fernand, 
said,  "  "Well,  you  understand  there  is  no  need  to  kill 
him." 

"Certainly  not,  if,  as  you  said  just  now,  you  have 
the  means  of  having  Dantes  arrested.  Have  you  that 
means  1 " 

*'  It  is  to  be  found  for  the  searching.  But  what  in  the 
devil  have  I  to  do  with  it  1     It  is  no  affair  of  mine." 

"  I  know  not  whether  it  is  your  affair,"  said  Fernand 
seizing  his  arm ;  "  but  this  I  know,  you  have  some  motive 
of   personal  hatred  against  Dantes,   for  he  who  himself 
hates  is  never  mistaken  in  the  sentiments  of  others." 

"Il  motives  of  hatred  against  Dantes?  None,  on 
my  word  !  I  saw  you  were  unhappy,  and  your  unhappi- 
ness  interested  me ;  that 's  all.  But  since  you  believe  I 
act  for  my  own  account,  adieu,  my  dear  friend,  get  out  of 
the  affair  as  best  you  may  ; "  and  Danglars  rose  as  if  he 
meant  to  depart. 

"  No,  no  ;  "  said  Fernand,  restraining  him,  "  stay !  It 
is  of  very  little  consequence  to  me  at  the  end  of  the  matter 
whether  you  have  any  angry  feeling  or  not  against  Dantes, 
I  hate  him  !  I  declare  it  openly.  Do  you  find  the  means, 
I  will  execute  it,  —  provided  it  is  not  to  kill  the  man,  for 
Mercedes  has  declared  she  will  kill  herself  if  Dantes  is 
killed." 

Caderousse,  who  had  let  his  head  drop  on  the  table, 
now  raised  it,  and  looking  at  Fernand  with  his  dull  and 
fishy  eyes,  he  said,  "  Kill  Dantes !  who  talks  of  killing 
Dantes  1  I  won't  have  him  killed,  —  I  won't !  He 's  my 
friend,  and  this  morning  offered  to  share  his  money  with 
me,  as  I  shared  mine  with  him.  I  won't  have  Dantes 
killed,  —  I  won't ! " 

"  And  who  has  said  a  word  about  killing  him,  muddle- 
head  1 "    replied   Danglars.     *'  We   were   merely  joking ; 


CONSPIRACY.  41 

drink  to  his  health,"  he  added,  filling  Caderousse's  glass, 
"  and  do  not  interfere  with  us." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Dantes's  good  health !  "  said  Caderousse, 
emptying  his  glass,  "  here  's  to  his  health  !  his  health  ! 
hurrah  ! " 

"  But  the  means,  —  the  means  1 "  said  Fernand. 

"  Have  you  not  hit  upon  any  ?  " 

"  No  ;  you  undertook  to  do  so." 

"  True,"  replied  Danglars ;  "  the  French  have  the  su- 
periority over  the  Spaniards,  that  the  Spaniards  ruminate, 
while  the  French  invent." 

"  Do  you  invent,  then  !  "  said  Fernand,  impatiently. 

"Waiter,"  said  Danglars,  "pen,  ink,  and  paper." 

"  Pen,  ink,  and  paper !  "  muttered  Fernand. 

"Yes;  I  am  a  supercargo.  Pen,  ink,  and  paper  are  my 
tools,  and  without  my  tools  I  am  fit  for  nothing." 

"  Pen,  ink,  and  paper  ! "  called  Fernand,  loudly. 

"All  you  require  is  on  that  table,"  said  the  waiter, 
pointing  to  the  writing  materials. 

"  Bring  them  here."  The  waiter  did  as  he  was 
desired. 

"  When  one  thinks,"  said  Caderousse,  letting  his  hand 
drop  on  the  paper,  "  that  here  there  is  what  will  kill  a 
man  more  surely  than  if  we  waited  at  the  corner  of  a 
wood  to  assassinate  him  !  I  have  always  had  more  dread 
of  a  pen,  a  bottle  of  ink,  and  a  sheet  of  paper  than  of  a 
sword  or  pistol." 

"The  fellow  is  not  so  drunk  as  he  appears  to  be,"  said 
Danglars.     "  Give  him  some  more  wine,  Fernand." 

Fernand  filled  Caderousse's  glass,  who,  toper  as  he  was, 
lifted  his  hand  from  the  paper  and  seized  the  glass.  The 
Catalan  watched  him  until  Caderousse,  almost  overcome 
by  this  fresh  assault  on  his  senses,  rested,  or  rather  allowed 
his  glass  to  fall  upon  the  table. 


42  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Well!"  resumed  the  Catalan,  as  he  saw  the  final 
glimmer  of  Caderousse's  reason  vanishing  before  the  last 
glass  of  wine. 

"  Well,  then,  I  should  say,  for  instance,"  resumed  Dan- 
glars,  "  that  if  after  a  voyage  such  as  Dantes  has  just  made, 
and  in  which  he  touched  the  Isle  of  Elba,  some  one  were 
to  denounce  him  to  the  procureur  du  roi  as  a  Bonapartist 
agent  —  " 

"  I  will  denounce  him  ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
hastily. 

"  Yes,  but  they  will  make  you  then  sign  your  declara- 
tion, and  confront  you  with  him  you  have  denounced ;  I 
will  supply  you  with  the  meaus  of  supporting  your  ac- 
cusation, for  I  know  the  fact  well.  But  Dantes  cannot 
remain  forever  in  prison,  and  one  day  or  other  he  will 
leave  it ;  and  the  day  when  he  comes  out,  woe  betide  him 
who  was  the  cause  of  his  incarceration  ! " 

"  Oh,  I  should  wish  nothing  better  than  that  he  would 
come  and  seek  a  quarrel  with  me." 

"  Yes,  and  Mercedes,  —  Mercedes,  who  will  detest  you 
if  you  have  only  the  misfortune  to  scratch  the  skin  of 
her  dearly  beloved  Edmond  !  " 

"  True  !  "  said  Fernand, 

"  No,  no  !  "  continued  Danglars  ;  "  if  we  resolve  on 
such  a  step,  it  would  be  much  better  to  take,  as  I  now  do, 
this  pen,  dip  it  into  this  ink,  and  write  with  the  left  hand 
(that  the  writing  may  not  be  recognized)  the  denunciation 
we  propose."  And  Danglars,  uniting  practice  with  theory, 
wrote  with  his  left  hand  and  with  a  backward  slant  in  a 
style  wholly  unlike  his  own,  the  following  lines,  which 
he  handed  to  Fernand,  and  which  Fernand  read  in  an 
undertone  :  — 

Monsieur,  —  The  procureur  du  roi  is  informed  by  a  friend 
of  the  throne  and  of  religion,  that  one  Edmond  Dantes,  mate 


CONSPIRACY.  43 

of  the  ship  "  Pharaon,"  who  arrived  this  morning  from  Smyrna, 
after  having  touched  at  Naples  and  Porto  Ferrajo,  has  been 
intrusted  by  Murat  with  a  letter  for  the  usurper,  and  by  the 
usurper  with  a  letter  for  the  Bonapartist  committee  in  Paris. 

Proof  of  this  crime  will  be  found  on  arresting  him,  for  the 
letter  will  be  found  upon  him,  or  at  his  father's,  or  in  his  cabin 
on  board  the  "  Pharaon." 

"  Very  good,"  resumed  Danglars  ;  "now  your  revenge 
looks  like  common-sense,  for  in  no  way  can  it  fall  back  on  . 
yourself,  and  the  matter  will  work  its  own  way.  There  is 
nothing  to  do  now  but  fold  the  letter  as  I  am  doing,  and 
write  upon  it,  '  To  M.  le  Procureur  Royal,'  and  that 's  all 
settled."     And  Danglars  wrote  the  address  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  and  that 's  aU  settled  !  "  exclaimed  Caderousse, 
who,  by  a  last  effort  of  intellect,  had  followed  the  reading 
of  the  letter,  and  instinctively  comprehended  all  the 
misery  which  such  a  denunciation  must  entail.  "  Yes, 
and  that 's  all  settled ;  only  it  will  be  an  infamous 
shame ;  "  and  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  reach  the 
letter. 

"  Yes,"  said  Danglars,  taking  it  from  beyond  his  reach  ; 
**and  as  what  I  say  and  do  is  merely  in  jest,  and  I, 
among  the  first  and  foremost,  should  be  sorry  if  anything 
happened  to  Dantes,  the  worthy  Dantes,  look  here  !  "  and 
taking  the  letter,  he  squeezed  it  up  in  his  hands  and  threw 
it  into  a  corner  of  the  arbor. 

"  All  right !  "  said  Caderousse.  "  Dantes  is  my  friend, 
and  I  won't  have  him  ill-used." 

"  And  who  in  the  devil  thinks  of  using  him  ill  ?  Cer- 
tainly neither  I  nor  Fernand !  "  said  Danglars,  rising  and 
looking  at  the  young  man,  who  still  remained  seated,  but 
whose  eye  was  fixed  on  the  denunciatory  sheet  of  paper 
flung  into  the  corner. 

"In  that  case,"  replied  Caderousse,  "let's  have  some 


44  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

more  wine.     I  wish  to  drink  to  the  health  of  Edmond 
and  the  lovely  Mercedes." 

"  You  have  had  too  much  already,  drunkard,"  said 
Danglars ;  "  and  if  you  continue,  you  will  be  compelled 
to  sleep  here,  because  unable  to  stand  on  your  legs." 

"  I  ? "  said  Caderousse,  rising  with  all  the  offended  dig- 
nity of  a  drunken  man,  "  I  can't  keep  on  my  legs  1  Why, 
I  '11  bet  a  wager  I  go  up  into  the  belfry  of  the  Accoules, 
and  without  staggering,  too  !  " 

"  Well  done !  "  said  Danglars,  "  I'll  take  your  bet ; 
but  to-morrow,  —  to-day  it  is  time  to  return.  Give  me 
your  arm,  and  let  us  go." 

"  Very  well,  let  us  go,"  said  Caderousse  ;  "  but  I  don't 
want  your  arm  at  all.  Come,  Fernand,  won't  you  return 
to  Marseilles  with  us  ] " 

"  No,"  answered  Fernand ;  "  I  shall  return  to  the 
Catalans." 

"  You  're  wrong.  Come  with  us  to  Marseilles ;  come 
along." 

"  I  will  not." 

"  What  do  you  mean  1  You  will  not  ]  Well,  just  as 
you  like,  my  prince  ;  there  's  liberty  for  all  the  world. 
Come  along,  Danglars,  and  let  the  young  gentleman  re- 
turn to  the  Catalans  if  he  chooses." 

Danglars  took  advantage  of  Caderousse's  temper  at  the 
moment  to  take  him  off  towards  Marseilles  by  the  Porte 
St.  Victor,  staggering  as  he  went. 

When  they  had  advanced  about  twenty  yards,  Danglars 
looked  back  and  saw  Fernand  stoop,  pick  up  the  crumpled 
paper,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  then  rush  out  of  the 
arbor  towards  Pillon. 

"  Well,"  said  Caderousse,  "  why,  what  a  lie  he  told ! 
He  said  he  was  going  to  the  Catalans,  and  he  is  going  to 
the  city.     Holloa,  Fernand  !  " 


CONSPIRACY.  45 

"  Oh,  you  see  wrong,"  said  Danglars ;  "  he 's  gone  right 
enough." 

"  Well,"  said  Caderousse,  "  I  should  have  said  not ; 
how  treacherous  wine  is  !  " 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Danglars  to  himself,  "  now  I  think 
the  affair  is  well  launched,  and  there  is  nothing  to  do  but 
to  let  it  go  on." 


46  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   MARRIAGE-FEAST. 

The  morning's  sun  rose  clear  and  resplendent,  gilding  the 
heavens  and  even  the  foamy  waves,  with  its  bright  reful- 
gent beams. 

The  plenteous  feast  had  been  prepared  at  La  Reserve, 
with  whose  arbor  the  reader  is  already  acquainted.  The 
apartment  destined  for  the  purpose  was  spacious  and 
lighted  by  a  number  of  windows,  over  each  of  which  was 
written  in  golden  letters  the  name  of  one  of  the  principal 
cities  of  France ;  beneath  these  windows  a  wooden  balcony 
extended  the  entire  length  of  the  house.  Although  the 
entertainment  was  appointed  to  begin  at  twelve  o'clock, 
an  hour  previous  to  that  time  the  balcony  was  filled  with 
impatient  and  expectant  guests,  consisting  of  the  favored 
part  of  the  crew  of  the  "Pharaon,"  and  other  personal 
friends  of  the  bridegroom,  all  of  whom  had  arrayed  them- 
selves in  their  choicest  costumes,  in  order  to  do  greater 
honor  to  the  day.  Various  rumors  were  afloat  to  the 
effect  that  the  owners  of  the  "  Pharaon "  had  promised 
to  attend  the  nuptial  feast ;  but  all  seemed  unanimous  in 
doubting  that  an  act  of  such  rare  and  exceeding  conde- 
scension could  possibly  be  intended. 

Danglars,  however,  who  now  made  his  appearance,  ac- 
companied by  Caderousse,  confirmed  the  report,  stating 
that  he  had  recently  conversed  with  M.  Morrel,  who  had 
himself  assured  him  that  he  intended  joining  the  festive 
party  upon  the  occasion  of  their  second  officer's  marriage. 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  47 

In  fact,  a  moment  later  M.  Morrel  made  his  appearance 
in  the  chamber,  and  was  greeted  by  the  sailors  with  a 
unanimous  burst  of  applause.  The  presence  of  the  ship- 
owner was  to  them  a  sure  indication  that  the  man  whose 
wedding-feast  he  thus  delighted  to  honor  would  ere  long 
be  first  in  command  of  the  "  Pharaon ;  "  and  as  Dantes 
was  universally  beloved  on  board  his  vessel,  the  sailors 
put  no  restraint  on  their  tumultuous  joy  at  finding  the 
opinion  and  choice  of  their  superiors  so  exactly  coincide 
with  their  wishes. 

This  noisy  though  hearty  welcome  over,  Danglars  and 
Caderousse  were  despatched  to  the  residence  of  the  bride- 
groom to  convey  to  him  the  intelligence  of  the  arrival  of 
the  important  personage  who  had  recently  joined  them, 
and  to  desire  he  would  hasten  to  receive  his  honorable 
guest. 

The  above-mentioned  individuals  started  off"  upon  their 
errand  at  full  speed ;  but  ere  they  had  gone  many  steps 
they  perceived  a  group  advancing  towards  them,  composed 
of  the  betrothed  pair,  and  a  party  of  young  girls  in  at- 
tendance on  the  bride,  by  whose  side  walked  Dantes's 
father.  Behind  them  came  Fernand,  whose  lips  wore 
their  usual  sinister  smile. 

Neither  Mercedes  nor  Edmond  observed  the  strange 
expression  of  his  countenance ;  they  were  so  happy  that 
they  had  eyes  only  for  each  other  and  for  the  clear,  beau- 
tiful sky  above  them. 

Having  acquitted  themselves  of  their  errand  and  ex- 
changed a  hearty  greeting  with  Edmond,  Danglars  walked 
by  the  side  of  Fernand,  and  Caderousse  joined  the  elder 
Dantes,  who  was  the  centre  of  general  attention.  The 
old  man  was  attired  in  a  suit  of  black,  trimmed  with 
steel  buttons,  beautifully  cut  and  polished.  His  thin  but 
still  powerful  legs  Were  arrayed  in  a  pair  of  richly  embroi- 


48  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

dered  clocked  stockings,  evidently  of  English  manufacture ; 
from  his  three-cornered  hat  depended  a  long  streaming 
knot  of  white  and  blue  ribbons,  and  he  supported  him- 
self on  a  curiously  carved  stick.  By  his  side,  as  we  have 
said,  crept  Caderousse,  whose  desire  to  partake  of  the 
good  things  provided  for  the  wedding-party  had  induced 
him  to  become  reconciled  to  the  Dantes,  father  and  son, 
and  who  still  retained  in  his  mind  a  faint  and  imperfect 
recollection  of  the  events  of  the  preceding  night, — just 
as  the  brain  retains  on  waking  the  dim  and  misty  outline 
of  a  dream. 

As  Danglars  approached  the  disappointed  lover,  he  cast 
on  him  a  look  of  deep  meaning.  Fernand,  as  he  slowly 
paced  behind  the  happy  pair,  who  seemed  in  their  own 
unmixed  content  to  have  entirely  forgotten  that  such  a 
being  as  himself  existed,  was  pale  and  abstracted.  Occa- 
sionally, however,  a  deep  flush  would  overspread  his  coun- 
tenance, and  a  nervous  contraction  distort  his  features, 
while  with  an  agitated  and  restless  gaze  he  would  glance 
in  the  direction  of  Marseilles,  like  one  who  was  expecting 
some  striking  event. 

Dantes  himself  was  simply  though  becomingly  clad  in 
the  dress  peculiar  to  the  merchant  service,  —  a  costume 
somewhat  between  a  militarj'^  and  a  civil  garb  ;  and  with 
his  fine  countenance,  radiant  with  joy  and  happiness,  a 
more  perfect  specimen  of  manly  beauty  could  scarcely  be 
imagined. 

Lovely  as  the  Greeks  of  Cyprus  or  Chios,  Mercedes 
boasted  the  same  bright  flashing  eyes  of  jet,  and  ripe 
round  coral  lips.  She  walked  with  the  frank,  free  step 
of  the  Andalusians.  One  more  practised  in  the  arts  of 
great  cities  would  have  hid  her  joy  beneath  a  veil,  or  at 
least  have  cast  down  her  thickly  fringed  lashes,  so  as  to 
have  concealed  the  liquid  lustre  of  her  animated  eyes ;  but 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  49 

Mercedes  looked  around  her  with  a  smile  that  plainly 
said,  "  If  you  are  my  friends  rejoice  with  me,  for  in 
truth  I  am  very  happy." 

As  soon  as  the  bridal  cortege  came  in  sight  of  La  Re- 
serve, M.  Morrel  came  forth  to  meet  it,  followed  by  the 
soldiers  and  sailors  there  assembled,  to  whom  ho  had  re- 
peated the  promise  already  given,  that  Dantes  should  be 
the  successor  of  the  late  Captain  Leclere.  Edmond,  at  the 
approach  of  his  patron,  placed  the  arm  of  his  affianced 
bride  within  that  of  AI.  Morrel,  who  forthwith  conducting 
her  up  the  flight  of  wooden  steps  leading  to  the  chamber 
in  which  the  feast  was  prepared,  was  gayly  followed  by 
the  guests,  beneath  whose  thronging  numbers  the  slight 
structure  creaked  and  groaned  as  though  alarmed  at  the 
unusual  pressure. 

*'  Father,"  said  Mercedes,  stopping  when  she  had 
reached  the  centre  of  the  table,  "  sit,  I  pray  you,  on  my 
right  hand ;  on  my  left  I  will  place  him  who  has  ever 
been  as  a  brother  to  me,"  she  added  with  a  gentle  tender- 
ness that  went  to  the  heart  of  Fernand  like  the  stroke  of 
a  dagger.  His  lips  became  pale,  and  even  beneath  the 
dark  hue  of  his  complexion  the  blood  might  be  seen  re- 
treating as  though  some  sudden  pang  drove  it  back  to  the 
heart. 

Meanwhile  Dantes,  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table, 
had  been  occupied  in  similarly  placing  his  most  honored 
guests.  M.  Morrel  was  seated  at  his  right  hand,  Danglars 
at  his  left ;  the  rest  of  the  company  ranged  themselves  as 
they  found  it  most  agreeable. 

And  now  began  the  work  of  devastation  upon  the  many 
good  things  with  which  the  table  was  loaded.  Sausages 
of  Aries,  with  their  delicate  seasoning  and  piquant  flavor, 
lobsters  in  their  dazzling  red  cuirasses,  prawns  of  large  size 
and  brilliant  color,  the  echinus,  with  its  prickly  outside 

VOL.    I.  —  4. 


50  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  dainty  morsel  within ;  the  clovis,  esteemed  by  the 
epicures  of  the  South  as  more  than  rivalling  the  exquisite 
flavor  of  the  oyster,  —  all  these,  in  conjunction  with  the 
numerous  delicacies  cast  up  by  the  wash  of  waters  on  the 
sandy  beach,  and  styled  by  the  grateful  fishermen  "sea- 
fruits,"  served  to  furnish  forth  this  marriage-table. 

"  A  pretty  silence  truly  !  "  said  the  old  father  of  the 
bridegroom,  as  he  carried  to  his  lips  a  glass  of  wine  of  the 
hue  and  brightness  of  the  topaz,  and  which  had  just  been 
placed  before  Mercedes  herself.  "  ISTow,  would  anybody 
think  that  there  are  here  thirty  persons  who  desire  only 
to  laugh  1 " 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  Caderousse,  "  a  husband  is  not  always 

gay." 

"  The  truth  is,"  replied  Dantes,  "  that  I  am  too  happy 
for  noisy  mirth ;  if  that  is  what  you  meant  by  your  obser- 
vation, my  worthy  friend,  you  are  right.  Joj?-  takes  a 
strange  eti'ect  at  times ;  it  seems  to  oppress  us  almost  the 
same  as  sorrow." 

Danglars  looked  towards  Fernand,  whose  excitable  na- 
ture received  and  betrayed  each  fresh  impression. 

"Why,  what  ails  you?"  asked  he  of  Edmond.  "Do 
you  fear  any  approaching  evil  1  I  should  say  that  you  are 
the  happiest  man  alive  at  this  instant." 

"  And  that  is  the  very  thing  that  alarms  me,"  returned 
Dantes.  "  Man  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  intended  to 
enjoy  felicity  so  unmixed.  Happiness  is  like  the  enchanted 
palaces  we  read  of  in  our  childhood,  where  fierce  fiery 
dragons  defend  the  entrance  and  approach,  and  monsters 
of  all  shapes  and  kinds,  requiring  to  be  overcome  ere  vic- 
tory is  ours.  I  own  that  I  am  lost  in  wonder  to  find  my- 
self promoted  to  an  honor  of  whicli  I  feel  myself  unworthy, 
—  that  of  being  the  husband  of  Mercedes." 

"  The  husband,  the  husband  1 "  said  Caderousse,  laugh- 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  51 

ing ;  "  not  yet,  my  captain.    Attempt  to  play  the  husband 
a  little,  and  see  how  you  will  be  received." 

Mercedes  blushed.  Fernand,  restless  and  uneasy, 
started  at  the  least  noise,  and  from  time  to  time  wiped 
away  large  drops  of  sweat  that  appeared  on  his  forehead, 
like  the  first  drops  of  rain  before  a  storm. 

"  Well,  never  mind  that,  neighbor  Caderousse  ;  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  contradict  me  for  such  a  trifle  as  that. 
'Tis  true  that  Mercedes  is  not  actually  my  wife;  but," 
added  he,  drawing  out  his  watch,  "  in  an  hour  and  a 
half  she  will  be." 

Every  one  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise,  with  the  exception 
of  the  elder  Dantes,  whose  laugh  displayed  the  still  perfect 
beauty  of  his  large  white  teeth.  Mercedes  smiled,  and  no 
longer  blushed.  Fernand  grasped  the  handle  of  his  knife 
with  a  convulsive  clutch. 

"  In  an  hour  1 "  inquired  Danglars,  turning  pale. 
"  How  is  that,  my  friend  ] " 

"  Yes,  my  friends,"  replied  Dantes  ;  "  thanks  to  the  in- 
fluence of  M.  Morrel,  to  whom,  next  to  my  father,  I  owe 
all  the  blessings  I  enjoy,  every  difficulty  has  been  re- 
moved. We  have  purchased  permission  to  waive  the  usual 
delay ;  and  at  half-past  two  o'clock  the  Mayor  of  Mar- 
seilles will  be  waiting  for  us  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  Now, 
as  a  quarter-past  one  has  already  struck,  I  do  not  consider 
I  have  asserted  too  much  in  saying  that  in  another  hour 
and  thirty  minutes  Mercedes  will  have  become  Madame 
Dantes." 

Fernand  closed  his  eyes,  a  burning  sensation  passed 
across  his  brow,  and  he  was  compelled  to  support  himself 
by  the  table  to  keep  from  falling ;  but  in  spite  of  all  his 
efforts,  he  could  not  refrain  from  uttering  a  deep  groan, 
which,  however,  was  lost  amid  the  noisy  felicitations  of 
the  company. 


52  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  the  old  man,  "  you  make  short 
work  of  it.  Arrived  here  only  yesterday  morning,  and 
married  to-day  at  three  o'clock  !  Commend  me  to  a  sailor 
for  going  the  quick  way  to  work  !  " 

"  But,"  asked  Danglars,  in  a  timid  tone,  "  how  did  you 
manage  about  the  other  formalities,  —  the  contract,  the 
settlement?  " 

"  Oh,  bless  you  !  "  answered  Dantes,  laughingly,  "  our 
papers  were  soon  drawn  up.  Mercedes  has  no  fortune  ;  I 
have  none  to  settle  on  her.  So,  you  see,  our  papers  were 
quickly  written  out,  and  certainly  do  not  come  very  ex- 
pensive."    This  joke  elicited  a  fresh  burst  of  applause. 

"  So  that  what  we  presumed  to  be  merely  the  betrothal 
feast  turns  out  to  be  the  actual  wedding  dinner?"  said 
Danglars. 

"  No,  no  !  "  answered  Dantes  ;  "  don't  imagine  I  am 
going  to  put  you  off  in  that  shabby  manner.  To-morrow 
morning  I  start  for  Paris.  Four  days  to  go,  and  the  same 
to  return,  with  one  day  to  discharge  the  commission 
intrusted  to  me,  and  on  the  first  of  March  I  shall  have 
returned  ;  the  next  day  I  will  give  my  real  marriage- feast." 

This  prospect  of  fresh  festivity  redoubled  the  hilarity  of 
the  guests  to  such  a  degree  that  the  elder  Dantes,  who,  at 
the  commencement  of  the  repast  had  commented  upon  the 
silence  that  prevailed,  now  found  it  difficult  amid  the 
general  din  of  voices  to  obtain  a  moment's  tranquillity  in 
which  to  drink  to  the  health  and  prosperity  of  the  bride 
and  bridegroom. 

Dantes,  perceiving  the  affectionate  eagerness  of  his 
f^xther,  responded  by  a  look  of  grateful  pleasure ;  while 
Mercedes,  whose  eyes  had  been  constantly  consulting 
the  clock  which  adorned  the  chamber,  made  an  express- 
ive gesture  to  Edmond. 

Around  the  festive  board  reigned  that  mirthful  freedom 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  53 

from  all  restraint  which  is  usually  found  at  the  termina- 
tion of  social  meetings,  among  those,  at  least,  whose  in- 
ferior station  in  the  world  gives  them  a  happy  dispensation, 
from  the  frigid  rules  of  etiquette.  Those  Mdio  were  dis- 
satisfied with  their  places  at  the  table  had  sought  out  other 
neighbors.  All  spoke  at  once ;  and  no  one  troubled  him- 
self to  reply  to  what  his  interlocutor  was  saying,  but  each 
spoke  to  his  own  thoughts. 

The  paleness  of  Fernand  appeared  to  have  communicated 
itself  to  Dangiars.  As  for  Fernand  himself,  he  seemed  as 
though  undergoing  the  tortures  of  the  damned.  Unable 
to  rest,  he  was  among  the  first  to  quit  the  table,  and  as 
though  seeking  to  avoid  the  hilarious  mirth  that  rose  in 
such  deafening  sounds,  he  continued  in  utter  silence  to 
pace  the  farther  end  of  the  salon. 

Caderousse  approached  him  just  as  Dangiars,  whom 
Fernand  seemed  most  anxious  to  avoid,  had  joined  liim  in 
a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Caderousse,  from  whose  mind 
the  friendly  treatment  of  Dantes,  united  with  the  efi'ect  of 
the  excellent  wine  he  had  partaken  of,  had  effaced  every 
feeling  of  envy  or  jealousy  at  Dantes's  good  fortune,  — 
"  upon  my  word,  Dantes  is  a  downright  good  fellow,  and 
when  I  see  him  sitting  there  beside  his  pretty  wife  that  is 
so  soon  to  be,  I  cannot  help  thinking  it  would  have  been 
a  great  pity  to  have  served  him  that  trick  you  were  plan- 
ning yesterday." 

"  Oh,  there  was  no  harm  meant !  "  answered  Dangiars. 
"  At  first  I  certainly  did  feel  somewhat  uneasy  as  regarded 
what  Fernand  might  be  tempted  to  do  ;  but  when  I  saw 
how  completely  he  had  mastered  his  feelings,  even  so  far 
as  to  be  a  groomsman  at  his  rival's  wedding,  I  knew  there 
was  no  further  cause  for  apprehension."  Caderousse 
looked  full  at  Fernand  ;  he  was  ghastly  pale. 


54  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Certainly,"  continued  Danglars,  "  the  sacrifice  was  no 
trifling  one,  wlien  tlie  beauty  of  the  bride  is  concerned. 
Upon  my  soul,  that  future  captain  of  mine  is  a  lucky  dog  ! 
Gad  !  I  only  wish  he  would  let  me  take  his  place." 

"  Shall  we  not  set  forth  1  "  asked  the  sweet,  silvery  voice 
of  Mercedes  ;  "  two  o'clock  has  just  struck,  and  you  know 
we  are  expected  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"Yes,  yes!"  cried  Dantes,  eagerly  quitting  the  table; 
"  let  us  go  directly  !  " 

His  words  were  re-echoed  by  the  whole  party,  who  rose 
with  a  simultaneous  cheer,  and  began  furming  themselves 
into  a  procession. 

At  this  moment  Danglars,  who  had  closely  watched 
Fernand,  saw  him  stagger  and  fall  back  with  an  almost 
convulsive  spasm  against  a  seat  placed  near  one  of  the 
open  windows.  At  the  same  instant  was  heard  a  noise  on 
the  stairs,  followed  by  the  measured  tread  of  soldiery,  with 
the  clanking  of  swords  and  military  accoutrements  ;  then 
came  a  hum  and  buzz  as  of  many  voices,  so  as  to  deaden 
even  the  noisy  mirth  of  the  bridal  part}'',  which  immedi- 
ately gave  place  to  an  uneasy  silence. 

The  noise  approached.  There  were  three  knocks  on  the 
panel  of  the  door.  Every  one  looked  at  his  neighbor  with 
an  air  of  astonishment. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  law  !  "  cried  a  resonant  voice,  to 
which  there  was  no  response.  The  door  was  opened,  and 
a  magistrate,  wearing  his  official  scarf,  presented  himself, 
followed  by  four  soldiers  and  a  corporal.  Uneasiness  now 
yielded  to  the  most  extreme  dread  on  the  part  of  those 
present. 

"  May  I  venture  to  inquire  the  reason  of  this  unexpected 
visit  1 "  said  M.  Morrel,  addressing  the  magistrate,  whom 
he  evidently  knew ;  "  there  is  doubtless  some  mistake 
easily  explained." 


THE  MAKRIAGE-FEAST.  55 

"If  it  be  so,  M.  Morrel,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "rely 
upon  every  reparation  being  made  ;  meanwhile,  I  am  the 
bearer  of  an  order  of  arrest,  and  although  I  most  reluctantly 
perfirm  the  task  assigned  me,  it  must  nevertheless  be 
fulfilled.  Who  among  the  persons  here  assembled  answers 
to  the  name  of  Edmond  Dantes  1 "  Every  eye  was  turned 
towards  the  young  man,  who,  though  much  disturbed, 
advanced  with  dignity  and  said  in  a  firm  voice,  "  I  am  he  ; 
what  is  your  pleasure  with  me?" 

"  Edmond  Dantes,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  I  arrest 
you  in  the  name  of  the  law  !  " 

"  Me  ! "  repeated  Edmond,  slightly  changing  color, 
"  and  wherefore,  I  pray  1 " 

"  I  do  not  know,  but  you  will  be  informed  at  your  first 
examination." 

M.  Morrel  felt  that  further  resistance  or  remonstrance 
was  useless.  A  commissary  girt  with  the  official  scarf  is 
no  longer  a  man  ;  he  is  a  statue  of  the  law,  cold  and 
dumb.  But  the  elder  Dantes  hastened  to  the  officer,  —  for 
there  are  some  things  that  the  heart  of  a  father  or  of  a 
mother  cannot  comprehend.  He  prayed  and  supplicated  ; 
and  though  his  prayers  and  tears  could  avail  nothing,  his 
despair  was  so  great  that  the  commissary  was  moved  to 
sympathy.  "  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "  calm  your  apprehen- 
sions. Your  son  has  probably  neglected  some  prescribed 
form  relating  to  the  customs  or  to  quarantine ;  and  it  is 
more  than  probable  he  will  be  set  at  liberty  after  answer- 
ing a  few  questions." 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  1 "  inquired  Caderousse, 
frowningly,  of  Danglars,  who  had  assumed  an  air  of  surprise. 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  1 "  replied  he  ;  "I  am,  like  your- 
self, utterly  bewildered  by  all  that  is  going  on,  not  a  word 
of  which  do  I  understand."  Caderousse  then  looked  around 
for  Fernand,  but  he  bad  disappeared. 


56  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  scene  of  the  previous  night  now  came  back  to  his 
mind  with  startling  accuracy.  The  catastrophe  he  had 
just  witnessed  appeared  to  have  rent  away  tlie  veil  which 
the  intoxication  of  the  evening  before  had  placed  between 
himself  and  his  memory. 

"  So  !  so  !  "  said  he,  in  a  hoarse  and  choking  voice,  to 
.Danglars,  "  this,  then,  I  suppose,  is  a  part  of  the  trick  you 
were  concerting  yesterday  1  In  that  case,  cursed  be  the 
performer  of  it !     It  is  a  bad  action." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  returned  Danglars ;  "  you  know  very  well 
that  I  tore  the  paper  to  pieces." 

"  No,  you  did  not  !  "  answered  Caderousse,  "  you  merely 
threw  it  by.     I  saw  it  lying  in  a  corner." 

"  Hold  your  tongue !  You  saw  nothing.  You  were 
drunk  !  " 

"  Where  is  Fernand  1  "  inquired  Caderousse. 

**  How  do  I  know  ?  "  replied  Danglars  ;  "  looking  after 
his  own  affairs,  most  likely.  Never  mind  where  he  is ;  let 
us  go  and  see  what  is  to  be  done  for  our  poor  friends  in 
this  their  affliction." 

During  this  conversation,  Dantes,  after  shaking  hands 
with  all  his  friends,  had  surrendered  himself  to  the  officer, 
saying,  "  Make  yourselves  quite  easy  ;  there  is  some  little 
mistake  to  clear  up,  and  very  likely  I  may  not  have  to  go 
so  far  as  the  prison  to  effect  that." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure !  "  responded  Danglars,  who  had  now 
approached  the  group ;  "  nothing  more  than  a  mistake,  I 
feel  quite  certain." 

Dantes  descended  the  staircase,  preceded  by  the  magis- 
trate, and  followed  by  the  soldiers.  A  carriage  awaited 
him  at  the  door ;  he  got  in,  followed  by  two  soldiers  and 
the  commissary,  and  the  vehicle  drove  off  towards  Marseilles. 

"  Adieu,  adieu,  dearest  Edraond  !  "  cried  Mercedes, 
stretching  out  her  arms  to  him  from  the  balcony. 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  57 

The  prisoner  heard  that  last  cry,  which  came  like  a 
sob  from  the  lacerated  heart  of  his  betrothed  ;  he  leaned 
from  the  coach  and  cried,  "  Au  revoir,  Mercedes,"  and 
the  coach  disappeared  round  one  of  the  corners  of  Fort 
St.  Nicolas. 

"  Wait  for  me  here,  aU  of  you  !  "  cried  M.  Morrel ;  "  I  will 
take  the  first  conveyance  I  find  and  hurry  to  Marseilles, 
whence  I  will  bring  you  word  how  all  is  going  on." 

"  That 's  right !  "  exclaimed  a  multitude  of  voices  ;  "go, 
and  return  as  quickly  as  you  can  !  " 

This  second  departure  was  followed  by  a  moment  of 
stupor  on  the  part  of  those  who  were  left  behind.  The 
old  father  and  Mercedes  remained  for  some  time  apart, 
each  absorbed  in  their  separate  griefs ;  but  at  length  the 
two  poor  victims  of  the  same  blow  raised  their  eyes,  and 
with  a  simultaneous  burst  of  feeling  rushed  into  each 
other's  arms. 

Meanwhile  Fernand  made  his  reappearance,  poured  out 
for  himself  a  glass  of  water  with  a  trembling  hand,  then 
hastily  swallowing  it,  went  to  sit  down  on  the  first  vacant 
chair  he  perceived.  By  chance  this  was  placed  next  to 
the  seat  on  which  Mercedes  had  fallen  half-fainting,  when 
released  from  the  embrace  of  the  old  man.  Instinctively 
Fernand  drew  back  his  chair. 

"It  is  he !  "  whispered  Caderousse,  who  had  never 
taken  his  eyes  off  Fernand,  to  Danglars. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  answered  the  other ;  "  he  is  too 
stupid  to  imagine  such  a  scheme.  I  only  hope  the  mis- 
chief will  fall  upon  the  head  of  whoever  wrought  it." 

"  You  don't  speak  of  him  who  planned  it,"  said 
Caderousse. 

"Ah,  surely,"  said  Danglars,  "one  can't  be  held 
responsible  for  everything  he  may  speak  into  the 
air!" 


58  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

*'  Yes,  wlieu  that  which  is  spoken  into  the  air  falls  hack 
point  first." 

Meantime  the  suhject  of  the  arrest  was  being  canvassed 
in  every  different  form. 

"What  think  you,  Danglars,"  said  one  of  the  party, 
"  of  this  event  1 " 

"I  think,"  said  Danglars,  "that  it  is  just  possible 
Dantes  may  have  been  detected  with  some  trifling  article 
on  board  ship  considered  here  as  contraband." 

"  But  how  could  he  have  done  so  without  your  knowl- 
edge, Danglars,  who  was  the  ship's  supercargo  1 " 

"  Why,  as  for  that,  I  could  only  know  what  I  was  told 
respecting  the  merchandise  with  which  the  vessel  was 
laden.  I  know  she  was  loaded  with  cotton,  and  that  she 
took  in  her  freight  at  Alexandria  from  the  warehouse  of 
M.  Pastret,  and  at  Smyrna  from  M.  Pascal's ;  that  is  all 
I  was  obliged  to  know,  and  I  beg  I  may  not  bo  asked  for 
any  further  particulars." 

"  Now  I  recollect ! "  said  the  afflicted  old  father  ;  "  my 
poor  boy  told  me  yesterday  he  had  a  small  case  of  coffee 
and  another  of  tobacco  for  me !  " 

"  There,  you  see  !  "  exclaimed  Danglars.  "  Now  the 
mischief  is  out ;  depend  upon  it  the  custom-house  people 
went  rummaging  about  the  ship  in  our  absence,  and 
discovered  poor  Dantes's  hidden  treasures." 

JMercedes,  however,  j^aid  no  heed  to  this  explanation  of 
her  lover's  arrest.  Her  grief,  which  she  had  hitherto  tried 
to  restrain,  now  burst  out  in  a  violent  fit  of  hysterical 
sobbing. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  old  man,  "  be  comforted,  my 
poor  child  ;  tliere  is  still  hope  !  " 

"  Hope  !  "  repeated  Danglars. 

"  Hope  !  "  Fernand  tried  to  say,  but  the  word  was 
stifled  3  his  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  forth. 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  69 

**  Good  news  !  good  news  !  "  shouted  one  of  the  party 
stationed  in  the  balcony.  "  Here  comes  M.  Morrel.  No 
doubt  now  we  shall  hear  that  our  friend  is  released  !  " 

Mercedes  and  the  old  man  rushed  to  meet  the  ship- 
owner, and  met  him  at  the  door.  M.  Morrel  was  very 
pale. 

"  What  news  ?  "  exclaimed  a  general  burst  of  voices. 

"Alas,  my  friends,"  replied  M.  Morrel,  with  a  mourn- 
ful shake  of  his  head,  "the  aftair  is  more  serious  than  we 
thought." 

*'  Oh,  indeed,  indeed,  sir,  he  is  innocent ! "  sobbed 
Mercedes. 

"  That  I  believe  !  "  answered  M.  Morrel ;  "  but  still  he  is 
charged  —  " 

"  With  what?''  inquired  the  elder  Dantes. 

"  With  being  an  agent  of  the  Bonapartist  faction  !  " 

Many  of  my  readers  may  be  able  to  recollect  how  for- 
midable such  an  accusation  became  in  the  period  at  which 
our  story  is  dated.  A  despairing  cry  escaped  the  pale  lips 
of  Mercedes,  while  the  heart-stricken  father  fell  listlessly 
into  a  chair. 

"  Ah,  Danglars  !  "  whispered  Caderousse,  "  you  have 
deceived  me,  —  the  trick  you  spoke  of  last  night  has  been 
played  off,  I  see ;  but  I  cannot  suffer  a  poor  old  man  or 
an  innocent  girl  to  die  of  grief  through  your  fault.  I  am 
determined  to  tell  them  all  about  it." 

"  Be  silent,  you  simpleton  ! "  cried  Danglars,  grasping 
him  by  the  arm,  "  or  I  will  not  answer  for  your  own  safety. 
Who  can  tell  whether  Dantes  be  innocent  or  guilty  1  The 
vessel  did  touch  at  Elba,  where  he  quitted  it,  and  passed 
a  whole  day  in  the  island.  Now,  should  any  letters  or 
other  documents  of  a  compromising  character  be  found 
upon  him,  it  will  be  taken  for  granted  that  all  who  up- 
hold him  are  his  accomplices." 


60  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

With  the  rapid  instinct  of  selfishness,  Caderousse  per- 
ceived the  solidity  of  this  reasoning;  he  looked  at  Dan- 
glars  with  eyes  dulled  by  fear  and  grief,  and  then  for  one 
forward  step  he  had  taken,  he  took  two  in  retreat. 

"  We  will  wait,  then,"  he  murmured. 

"  To  be  sui'e  !  "  answered  Danglars.  "  Let  us  wait,  by 
all  means.  If  he  be  innocent,  of  course  he  will  be  set  at 
libeiiiy  ;  if  guilty,  why,  it  is  of  no  use  to  involve  ourselves 
in  his  conspiracy." 

"  Then  let  us  go.     I  cannot  remain  here  any  longer." 

"  With  all  my  heart !  "  replied  Danglars,  but  too  pleased 
to  find  a  partner  in  his  retreat.  "  Let  us  take  ourselves 
out  of  the  way,  and  leave  the  rest  to  withdraw  as  they 
please." 

After  their  departure,  Fernand,  who  had  now  again 
become  the  protector  of  the  young  girl,  took  Mercedes 
by  the  hand  and  conducted  her  to  the  Catalans;  while 
some  friends  of  Dantes  conveyed  the  heart-broken  parent 
to  his  home. 

The  rumor  of  Edmond's  arrest  as  a  Bonapartist  agent 
was  not  slow  in  circulating  throughout  the  city. 

"  Could  you  ever  have  credited  such  a  thing,  my  dear 
Danglars  1 "  asked  M.  Morrel,  as,  on  his  return  to  the  port 
for  the  purpose  of  gleaning  fresh  tidings  of  Dantes,  he 
overtook  his  supercargo  and  Caderousse.  "  Could  you 
have  believed  such  a  thing  possible  ? " 

"  Why,  you  know  I  told  you,"  replied  Danglars,  "  that 
I  considered  the  circumstance  of  his  having  anchored  at 
the  Isle  of  Elba  to  be  very  suspicious." 

"  And  did  5'^ou  mention  these  suspicions  to  any  person 
besides  myself  ? " 

**  Certainly  not ! "  returned  Danglars,  then  added  in  a 
low  whisper,  "  You  understand  that  on  account  of  your 
uncle,   M.  Policar  Morrel,  who  served  under  the  other 


THE  MARRIAGE-FEAST.  61 

government,  and  who  does  not  altogether  conceal  what  he 
thinks  on  the  subject,  you  are  strongly  suspected  of  regret- 
ting the  abdication  of  J^fapoleon.  I  should  have  feared 
to  injure  both  Edmond  and  yourself,  had  I  divulged 
my  own  apprehensions  to  a  soul.  I  am  well  aware  that 
though  a  subordinate,  like  myself,  is  bound  to  acquaint 
the  ship-owner  with  everything  that  occurs,  there  are 
many  things  he  ought  most  carefully  to  conceal  from  all 
others." 

" '  T  is  well,  Danglars  ;  '  t  is  well !  "  replied  M.  Morrel. 
"  You  are  a  worthy  fellow  ;  and  I  had  already  thought  of 
your  interests  in  the  event  of  poor  Edmond  having  become 
captain  of  the  '  Pharaon.'  " 

"  In  what  way.  Monsieur  ]  " 

"Yes,  I  had  previously  inquired  of  Dantes  what  was 
his  opinion  of  you,  and  if  he  should  have  any  reluctance 
to  continue  you  in  your  post,  —  for  I  have  perceived  a 
sort  of  coolness  between  you." 

"And  what  was  his  reply  ]  " 

"  That  he  certainly  did  think  he  had  ground  of  com- 
plaint against  you  in  an  affair  which  he  did  not  explain, 
but  that  whoever  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  ship's 
owners  would  have  his  also." 

"  The  hypocrite  !  "  murmured  Danglars,  between  his 
teeth. 

"  Poor  Dantes  !  "  said  Caderousse.  "  No  one  can  deny 
his  being  a  noble-hearted  young  fellow  !  " 

"But  in  the  midst  of  all  our  trouble,"  continued  M. 
Morrel,  "we  must  not  forget  that  the  'Pharaon'  has  at 
present  no  captain." 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  Danglars,  "  since  we  cannot  leave 
this  port  for  the  next  three  months,  let  us  hope  that 
ere  the  expiration  of  that  period  Dantes  will  be  set  at 
liberty." 


62  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Of  that  I  entertain  no  doubt ;  but  in  the  mean  time 
what  are  we  to  do  ] " 

"  Well,  until  then  I  am  here,  M.  Morrel,"  answered 
Danglars.  "  You  know  that  I  am  as  capable  of  manag- 
ing a  ship  as  the  most  experienced  captain  in  the  service ; 
and  it  will  be  advantageous  to  you  to  accept  my  services, 
since  upon  Edmond's  release  from  prison  no  further  change 
will  be  requisite  on  board  the  *  Pharaon '  than  for  Dantes 
and  myself  each  to  resume  our  respective  posts." 

"  Thanks,  thanks  !  my  good  friend,  for  your  excellent 
idea,  —  that  will  smooth  all  difficulties.  I  authorize  you 
at  once  to  assume  the  command  of  the  '  Pharaon '  and 
to  superintend  the  unloading  of  her  freight.  Business 
must  not  be  allowed  to  suffer,  whatever  may  happen 
to  individuals." 

"  Depend  upon  my  zeal  and  attention,  M.  Morrel ;  but 
when  do  you  think  it  likely  we  may  be  permitted  to  visit 
our  poor  friend  in  his  prison  1 " 

"  I  will  let  you  know  that  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  M.  de 
Villefort,  whom  I  shall  endeavor  to  interest  in  Edmond's 
favor.  I  am  aware  he  is  a  furious  Eoyalist ;  but,  in  spite 
of  that  and  of  his  being  the  procure ur  du  roi,  he  is  a  man 
like  ourselves,  and  I  fancy  not  a  bad  one  !  " 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  Danglars ;  "  but  I  have  heard 
that  he  is  extremely  ambitious,  and  ambition  is  a  sore 
hardener  of  the  heart ! " 

"  Well,  well !  "  returned  M.  Morrel,  "  we  shall  see  ! 
But  now  hasten  on  board ;  I  will  join  you  there."  So 
saying,  the  worthy  ship-owner  quitted  the  two  friends,  and 
proceeded  in  the  direction  of  the  Palais  de  Justice. 

"  You  see,"  said  Danglars,  addressing  Caderousse,  "  the 
turn  things  have  taken.  Do  you  still  feel  any  desire  to 
stand  up  in  his  defence  %  " 

"Not  the  slightest;  but  yet  it  seems  to  me  a  shock- 


THE   MARRIAGE-FEAST.  63 

ing  thing  tLat  a  mere  joke  should  lead  to  such  frightful 
consequences." 

"  But  who  perpetrated  that  joke,  let  me  ask  1  Neither 
you  nor  myself,  but  Fernand.  You  know  very  well  that 
I  threw  the  paper  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  —  indeed, 
I  thought  I  had  destroyed  it." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  replied  Caderousse,  "  that  I  can  answer  for, 
you  did  not.  I  only  wish  I  could  see  it  now  as  plainly  as 
I  saw  it  lying  all  crushed  and  crumpled  in  a  corner  of  the 
arbor." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  did,  depend  upon  it,  Fernand  picked 
it  up,  and  either  copied  it  or  caused  it  to  be  copied  ;  per- 
haps, even,  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  of  recopying  it. 
And  now  I  think  of  it,  by  Heaven  !  he  has  perhaps  sent 
the  letter  itself !  Fortunately  for  me,  the  handwriting 
was  disguised." 

"You  knew,  then,  that  Dantes  was  engaged  in  a 
conspiracy  1  " 

"Not  I.  As  I  before  said,  I  thought  the  whole  thing 
was  a  joke,  nothing  more.  It  seems,  however,  that,  like 
Harlequin,  I  have  spoken  the  truth  in  jest." 

"  Still,"  argued  Caderousse,  **  I  would  give  a  great  deal 
if  nothing  of  the  kind  had  happened,  or  at  least  if  I  had 
had  no  hand  in  it.  You  will  see,  Danglars,  that  it  will 
turn  out  an  unlucky  job  for  both  of  us." 

"  Nonsense  !  If  any  harm  comes  of  it,  it  should  fall 
on  the  guilty  person  ;  and  that,  you  know,  is  Fernand. 
How  can  we  be  implicated  in  any  way  ?  All  we  have  got 
to  do  is  to  keep  our  own  counsel,  and  remain  perfectly 
quiet,  not  breathing  a  word  of  all  this  ;  and  you  will 
see  that  the  storm  will  pass  away  without  in  the  least 
affecting  us." 

"  Amen  !  "  responded  Caderousse,  waving  his  hand  in 
token  of  adieu  to  Danglars,  and  bending  his  steps  towards 


64  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  Allees  de  Meillan,  moving  his  head  to  and  fro,  and 
muttering  as  he  went,  after  the  manner  of  those  who  are 
absorbed  in  thought. 

"  So  far,  then,"  said  Danglars  to  himself,  "  all  has  gone 
as  I  would  have  it.  I  am  temporarily  commander  of  the 
*  Pharaon,'  with  the  certainty  of  being  permanently  so,  if 
that  fool  of  a  Caderousse  can  be  persuaded  to  hold  his 
tongue.  My  only  fear  is  that  Dantes  may  be  released. 
But,  bah  !  he  is  in  the  hands  of  Justice ;  and,"  added  he, 
with  a  smile,  "  she  will  take  her  own."  So  saying,  he 
leaped  into  a  boat,  desiring  to  be  rowed  on  board  the 
**  Pharaon,"  where  M.  Morrel  had  appointed  to  meet  him. 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  65 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE   DEPUTY   PROCUREUR   DU    ROI. 

In  one  of  the  large,  aristocratic  mansions  situated  in  the 
Rue  du  Grand  Cours  opposite  the  fountain  of  Medusa,  a 
second  marriage-feast  was  celebrated,  almost  at  the  same 
hour  with  the  ill-fated  nuptial  repast  given  by  Dantes. 
But  instead  of  sailors,  soldiers,  and  those  belonging  to  the 
humblest  grade  of  life,  the  present  reunion  was  composed 
of  the  very  flower  and  elite  of  Marseilles  society,  —  magis- 
trates who  had  resigned  their  office  during  the  usurper's 
reign ;  officers  who,  scorning  to  fight  under  his  banners, 
had  offered  their  services  to  foreign  powers  ;  and  younger 
persons  who  had  been  brought  up  to  execrate  the  man 
whom  five  years  of  exile  would  have  converted  into  a 
martyr,  and  fifteen  of  restoration  elevated  to  the  rank  of 
a  demigod. 

The  guests  were  still  at  table,  and  the  heated  and  ener- 
getic conversation  that  prevailed  betrayed  the  violent  and 
vindictive  passions  that  then  agitated  the  inhabitants  of 
the  South,  where  for  five  hundred  years  religious  strife  had 
given  increased  bitterness  to  the  violence  of  party  feeling. 

The  emperor,  now  king  of  the  Isle  of  Elba,  —  after  hav- 
ing held  sovereign  sway  over  one  half  of  the  world,  reign- 
ing over  five  or  six  thousand  souls,  after  having  been  ac- 
customed to  hear  the  "  Vive  Napoleons  ! "  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty  million  subjects,  and  in  ten  different  lan- 
guages, —  was  regarded  in  that  company  as  being  forever 
lost  to  France  and  to  her  throne. 


66  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CPJSTO. 

The  magistrates  freely  discussed  their  political  views ; 
the  military  part  of  the  company  talked  of  Moscow  and 
Leipsic ;  the  women,  of  the  divorce  of  the  Empress  Jose- 
phine. That  Royalist  assembly,  rejoicing  and  triumphing 
over,  not  the  fall  of  a  man,  but  the  annihilation  of  a  prin- 
ciple, believed  that  political  prosperity  was  opening  anew 
to  them,  and  that  they  were  leaving  behind  a  painful  dream. 

An  old  man,  decorated  with  the  cross  of  Saint  Louis, 
rose  and  proposed  the  health  of  King  Louis  XVIII.  This 
aged  individual  was  the  Marquis  de  Saint-Meran.  This 
toast,  recalling  at  once  the  patient  exile  of  Hartwell  and 
the  peace-loving  King  of  France,  excited  universal  enthu- 
siasm ;  glasses  were  elevated  in  the  air  in  the  English  man- 
ner, and  the  ladies,  snatching  bouquets  from  their  fair 
bosoms,  strewed  the  table  with  their  floral  treasures.  In 
a  word,  an  almost  poetical  fervor  prevailed. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  Marquise  de  Saint-Meran,  a  woman 
■with  a  stern,  forbidding  eye,  though  still  noble  and  ele- 
gant-looking, despite  her  having  reached  her  fiftieth  year, 
—  "  ah  !  these  revolutionists,  who  have  driven  us  from 
those  very  possessions  they  afterwards  purchased  for  a 
mere  trifle  during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  would  be  com- 
pelled to  own,  were  they  here,  that  all  true  devotion  was 
on  our  side,  since  we  were  content  to  folloAv  the  fortunes 
of  a  falling  monarch,  while  they,  on  the  contrary,  made 
their  fortune  by  worshipping  the  rising  sun  ;  yes,  yes, 
they  could  not  help  admitting  that  the  king  for  whom  we 
sacrificed  rank,  wealth,  and  station  was  truly  our  *  Louis 
the  well-beloved,'  while  their  wretched  usurper  has  been 
and  ever  will  be  to  them  their  evil  genius,  their  *  !N^apo- 
leon  the  accursed.'     Am  I  not  right,  Villefort?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Madame.  I  really  must  pray  you 
to  excuse  me,  but  —  in  truth  —  I  was  not  attending  to 
the  conversation." 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  67 

"  Marchioness,  Marchioness ! "  interposed  the  same 
elderly  personage  who  had  proposed  the  toast,  "  let  the 
young  people  alone  ;  let  me  tell  you,  on  one's  wedding  day 
there  are  more  agreeable  subjects  of  conversation  than 
dry  politics." 

"  Never  mind,  dearest  mother,"  said  a  young  and  love- 
ly girl,  with  a  profusion  of  light  brown  hair,  and  eyes 
that  seemed  to  float  in  liquid  crystal,  "  't  is  all  my  fault 
for  seizing  upon  M.  de  Villefort,  and  preventing  his  listen- 
ing to  what  you  said.  But  there — now  take  him  —  he 
is  your  own  for  as  long  as  you  like.  M.  de  Villefort,  I  beg 
to  remind  you  that  my  mother  speaks  to  you." 

"  If  Madame  the  Marchioness  will  deign  to  repeat  the 
words  I  but  imperfectly  caught,  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
answer,"  said  M.  de  Villefort. 

"  Never  mind,  Renee,"  replied  the  marchioness,  wdth 
such  a  look  of  tenderness  as  all  were  astonished  to  see  upon 
her  harsh,  dry  features  ;  but,  however  all  other  feelings 
may  be  withered  in  a  woman's  nature,  there  is  always  one 
bright  smiling  spot  in  the  maternal  breast,  —  it  is  that 
which  God  has  consecrated  to  maternal  love,  — '*  I  forgive 
you.  What  I  was  saying,  Villefort,  was,  that  the  Bonapart- 
ists  had  neither  our  sincerity,  enthusiasm,  nor  devotion." 

"  They  had,  however,  what  supplied  the  place  of  those 
fine  qualities,"  replied  the  young  man;  "and  that  Avas 
fanaticism.  Napoleon  is  the  Mahomet  of  the  West,  and 
is  worshipped  by  his  commonplace  but  ambitious  fol- 
lowers, not  only  as  a  leader  and  lawgiver,  but  also  as  the 
personification  of  equality." 

"  He  !  "  cried  the  marchioness,  "  Napoleon  the  type  of 
equality  !  For  mercy's  sake,  then,  what  would  you  call 
Robespierre?  Come,  come,  do  not  strip  the  latter  of  his 
just  rights  to  bestow  them  on  the  Corsican ;  there  has 
been  usurpation  enough,  it  seems  to  me." 


68  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Nay,  Madame  ;  I  would  place  each  of  these  heroes  on 
his  right  pedestal,  —  that  of  Eohespierre  to  be  built  where 
his  scaffold  was  erected  ;  that  of  Napoleon  on  the  column 
of  the  Place  Vendome.  The  only  difference  consists  in 
the  opposite  character  of  the  equality  supported  by  these 
two  men,  —  the  one  advocates  the  equality  that  depresses, 
the  other  professes  the  equality  that  elevates ;  the  one 
brings  a  king  within  reach  of  the  guillotine,  the  other 
elevates  the  people  to  a  level  with  the  throne.  Ob- 
serve," said  Villefort,  smiling,  "  I  do  not  mean  to  deny 
that  both  the  individuals  we  have  been  referring  to  were 
revolutionary  scoundrels,  and  that  the  9th  Thermidor 
and  the  4th  of  April  were  lucky  days  for  France,  worthy 
of  being  gratefully  remembered  by  every  friend  to  mon- 
archy and  civil  order  ;  but  that  explains  how  it  comes  to 
pass  that,  fallen,  as  I  trust  he  is,  forever.  Napoleon  has 
still  preserved  a  train  of  parasitical  satellites.  Still,  Mar- 
chioness, it  has  been  so  with  other  usurpers,  —  Cromwell, 
for  instance,  who  was  not  half  so  bad  as  Napoleon,  had 
his  partisans  and  advocates." 

"  Do  you  know,  Villefort,  that  you  are  talking  in  a  most 
dreadfully  revolutionary  strain  1  But  I  excuse  it;  it  is 
impossible  to  expect  the  son  of  a  Girondin  to  be  free  from 
a  small  spice  of  the  old  leaven." 

A  deep  crimson  suffused  the  countenance  of  Villefort. 
"'Tis  true,  Madame,"  answered  he,  "that  my  father  was 
a  Girondin,  but  he  was  not  among  the  number  of  those 
who  voted  for  the  king's  death  ;  he  was  an  equal  sufferer 
with  yourself  during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  and  had  well- 
nigh  lost  his  head  on  the  same  scaffold  as  your  own 
father." 

*'  True,"  replied  the  marchioness,  without  wincing  in 
the  slightest  degree  at  the  tragical  remembrance  thus 
called  up  ;  "  but  bear  in  mind,  if  you   please,  that  our 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  69 

respective  parents  underwent  persecution  and  proscription 
from  diametrically  opposite  principles.  In  proof  of  which 
I  may  remark  that  while  my  family  remained  among  the 
stanchest  adherents  of  the  exiled  princes,  your  father  lost 
no  time  in  joining  the  new  government ;  and  that  after 
the  Citizen  Noirtier  had  become  a  Girondin,  the  Comte 
Noirtier  appeared  as  a  senator  and  statesman." 

"  Dear  mother,"  interposed  Renee,  "  you  know  very 
well  it  was  agreed  that  all  these  disagreeable  reminiscences 
should  forever  be  laid  aside." 

"Madame,"  replied  ViUefort,  "I  unite  with  Mademoi- 
selle de  Saint-Meran  in  humbly  requesting  you  to  forget 
the  past.  What  avails  retrospection  and  recrimination 
touching  circumstances  wholly  beyond  recall  1  For  my 
own  part,  I  have  laid  aside  even  the  name  of  my  father, 
and  altogether  disown  his  political  principles.  He  was 
—  nay,  probably  still  is  —  a  Bonapartist,  and  is  called 
Noirtier ;  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  a  stanch  Royalist,  and 
style  myself  Villefort.  Let  what  may  remain  of  revolu- 
tionary sap  exhaust  itself  and  die  away  with  the  old 
trunk,  and  condescend  only  to  regard  the  young  shoot 
which  has  started  up  at  a  distance  from  the  parent  tree, 
without  having  the  power,  any  more  than  the  wish,  to 
separate  entirely  from  the  stock  from  which  it  sprung." 

"  Bravo,  Villefort !  "  cried  the  marquis  ;  "  excellently 
well  said !  Come,  now,  I  have  hopes  of  obtaining  what 
I  have  been  for  years  endeavoring  to  persuade  the  mar- 
chioness to  promise ;  namely,  a  perfect  amnesty  and 
forgetfulness  of  the  past." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  the  marchioness ;  "  let 
the  past  be  forever  forgotten  !  I  ask  nothing  better,  and 
let  it  be  so  agreed ;  but  at  least,  Villefort  must  be  in- 
flexible in  the  future.  Remember,  Villefort,  that  we  have 
pledged  ourselves  to  his  Majesty  for  your  fealty  and  strict 


70  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

loyalty,  and  that  at  our  recommendation  the  king  con- 
sented to  forget  the  past  [and  here  she  extended  to  him 
her  hand]  as  I  now  do  at  your  entreaty.  But  hear  in 
mind  that  should  there  fall  in  your  way  any  one  guilty  of 
conspiring  against  the  Government,  you  wiU  he  the  more 
bound  to  visit  the  offence  with  rigorous  punishment, 
because  it  is  known  you  belong  to  a  suspected  family." 

"  Alas,  Madame  !  "  returned  Villefort,  "  my  profession, 
as  well  as  the  times  in  which  we  live,  compel  me  to  be 
severe.  I  shall  be  so.  I  have  already  successfully  con- 
ducted several  public  prosecutions,  and  brought  the  of- 
fenders to  merited  punishment.  Unhappily,  we  have  not 
yet  reached  the  end." 

"  Do  you,  indeed,  think  so  1 "  inquired  the  marchioness. 

"  I  am,  at  least,  fearful  of  it.  Napoleon,  in  the  island 
of  Elba,  is  too  near  France,  and  his  proximity  keeps  up 
the  hopes  of  his  partisans.  Marseilles  is  filled  with  half- 
pay  officers,  who  are  daily,  under  one  frivolous  pretext  or 
other,  getting  up  quarrels  with  the  loyalists ;  hence  arise 
duels  in  the  higher  classes,  and  assassinations  in  the 
lower." 

"  You  have  heard,  perhaps,'^  said  the  Comte  de  Salvieux, 
one  of  M.  de  Saint- Meran's  oldest  friends,  and  chamberlain 
to  the  Comte  d'Artois,  "  that  the  Holy  Alliance  purpose 
removing  him  1 " 

"  Yes  ;  they  were  talking  about  it  when  we  left  Paris," 
said  M.  de  Saint-Meran ;  "  and  where  will  they  send 
him  1 " 

"  To  St.  Helena." 

"To  St.  Helena?  Where  is  that?"  inquired  the 
marchioness. 

"  An  island  situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  equator, 
at  least  two  thousand  leagues  from  here,"  replied  the 
count. 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  71 

*'  So  much  the  better  !  As  Villefort  observes,  it  is  a 
great  act  of  folly  to  have  left  such  a  man  between  Corsica, 
where  he  was  born,  and  Naples,  of  which  his  brother-in-law 
is  king,  and  opposite  Italy,  the  sovereignty  of  which  he 
coveted  for  his  sou." 

"  Unfortunately,"  said  Villefort,  "  we  have  the  treaties 
of  1814,  and  we  cannot  move  against  Napoleon  without 
breaking  those  treaties." 

"  Very  well,  they  will  be  broken,"  said  M.  de  Salvieux. 
**  Shall  we  be  so  very  precise  in  obligations  concerning 
him  who  caused  the  unhappy  Due  d'Enghien  to  be 
shot  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  the  marchioness,  "  it  seems  probable  that 
by  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Alliance  we  shall  be  rid  of  Napo- 
leon ;  and  we  must  trust  to  the  vigilance  of  M.  de  Ville- 
fort to  purify  Marseilles  of  his  partisans.  The  king  is 
either  a  king  or  no  king;  if  he  be  acknowledged  as 
sovereign  of  France,  he  should  be  upheld  in  peace  and 
tranquillity.  And  this  can  best  be  eftected  by  employing 
the  most  inflexible  agents  to  put  down  every  attempt  at 
conspiracy,  —  't  is  the  best  and  surest  means  of  preventing 
mischief." 

"  Unfortunately,  Madame,"  answered  Villefort,  "  the 
strong  arm  of  the  law  is  not  called  upon  to  interfere  until 
the  evil  has  taken  place." 

*'  Then  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  endeavor  to  repair  it." 

"  Nay,  Madame,  the  law  is  frequently  powerless  to 
effect  this ;  all  it  can  do  is  to  avenge  the  wrong  done." 

"  Oh,  M.  de  Villefort !  "  cried  a  beautiful  young  creature, 
daughter  to  Comte  de  Salvieux,  and  the  cherished  friend 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-Meran,  "do  try  and  get  up  some 
famous  trial  while  we  are  at  Marseilles.  I  never  was  in 
a  law  court ;  I  am  told  it  is  so  very  amusing  !  " 

"Amusing,  certainly,"  replied  the  young  man,  "inas- 


72  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

much  as,  instead  of  shedding  tears  as  at  the  fictitious  tale 
of  woe  produced  at  a  theatre,  you  behold  in  a  law  court 
a  case  of  real  and  genuine  distress,  —  a  drama  of  life.  The 
prisoner  whom  you  there  see,  pale,  agitated,  and  alarmed, 
instead  of —  as  is  the  case  when  the  curtain  falls  on  a 
tragedy  —  going  home  to  sup  peacefully  with  his  family, 
and  then  retiring  to  rest  that  he  may  reassume  his  mimic 
woes  on  the  morrow,  is  removed  from  your  sight  merely 
to  be  reconducted  to  his  prison  and  delivered  up  to  the 
executioner.  I  leave  you  to  judge  how  far  your  nerves 
are  calculated  to  bear  you  through  such  a  scene.  Of  this, 
however,  be  assured,  that  should  any  favorable  opportunity 
present  itself,  I  will  not  fail  to  offer  you  the  choice  of 
being  present  at  it." 

"  For  shame,  M.  de  Villefort ! "  said  Re  nee,  becoming 
quite  pale  ;  "  don't  you  see  how  you  are  frightening  us  1 
and  yet  you  laugh." 

"  What  would  you  have  1  It  is  a  duel.  I  have  already 
recorded  sentence  of  death  five  or  six  times  for  political 
or  other  offences ;  and  who  can  say  how  many  daggers 
may  be  ready  sharpened,  and  only  waiting  a  favorable 
opportunity  to  be  buried  in  my  heart  1  " 

"  Gracious  heavens !  M.  de  Villefort,"  said  Ren^e,  be- 
coming more  and  more  terrified ;  "■  you  surely  are  not  in 
earnest  1 " 

"  Indeed  I  am,"  replied  the  young  magistrate,  with  a 
smile ;  "  and  in  the  interesting  trial  which  that  young 
lady  desires  to  satisfy  her  curiosity,  and  which  I  myself 
desire  to  satisfy  my  ambition,  the  case  would  only  be 
still  more  aggravated.  Suppose,  for  instance,  the  prisoner 
to  have  served  under  Napoleon,  —  can  you  believe  for  an 
instant,  that  one  accustomed  at  the  word  of  his  com- 
mander to  rush  fearlessly  on  the  bayonets  of  his  foe  will 
scruple  to  drive  a  stiletto  into  the  heart  of  one  he  knows 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  73 

to  be  his  personal  enemy,  more  than  he  would  to  kill  a 
Eussian,  an  Austrian,  or  a  Hungarian,  whom  he  had  never 
before  seen  1  And  besides,  that  antagonism,  you  see,  is 
essential  to  the  situation  ;  without  it  our  business  would 
be  without  excuse.  For  my  own  part,  when  I  see  gleam- 
ing in  the  eye  of  the  accused  the  clear  light  of  anger,  I 
feel  encouraged,  I  am  exhilarated.  It  is  no  longer  a  trial ; 
it  is  a  combat.  I  struggle  against  him,  he  returns  the 
attack  J  I  redouble  my  energy,  and  the  combat  ends,  like 
all  combats,  in  victory  or  defeat.  That  is  what  pleading 
is;  therein  lies  the  danger  of  eloquence.  If  an  accused 
person  should  smile  upon  my  words  I  should  think  that  I 
had  spoken  badly,  that  what  I  had  said  was  pale,  without 
force,  inadequate.  Imagine,  then,  the  sensation  of  pride 
experienced  by  an  advocate  convinced  that  the  accused 
is  guilty,  when  he  sees  him  blanch  and  bend  under  the 
thunders  of  his  eloquence !  That  head  is  bowed,  it 
will  fall—  ' 

Een^e  uttered  a  slight  cry. 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  one  of  the  guests  ;  "  that  is  what  I  call 
talking  to  some  purpose." 

"  Just  the  person  we  require  at  a  time  like  the  present," 
said  a  second. 

"  What  a  splendid  business  that  last  cause  of  yours  was, 
ruy  dear  Villefort !  "  remarked  a  third  ;  "  I  mean  the  trial 
of  the  man  for  murdering  his  father.  Upon  my  word, 
you  killed  him  ere  the  executioner  had  laid  his  hand  upon 
him." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  parricides,  and  such  dreadful  people  as 
that,"  interposed  Renee,  "  it  matters  very  little  what  is 
done  to  them  ;  but  as  regards  poor  unfortunate  creatures 
whose  only  crime  consists  in  having  mixed  themselves  up 
in  political  intrigues  —  " 

"Why,  that  is  the  very  worst  offence  they  could  possi- 


74  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

bly  commit ;  for  don't  you  see,  Renee,  the  king  is  the 
father  of  his  people,  and  he  who  shall  plot  or  contrive 
aught  against  the  life  and  safety  of  the  parent  of  thirty- 
two  million  people  is  a  parricide  on  a  large  scale  1  " 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  replied  Renee, 
"  but,  M.  de  Villefort,  you  have  promised  me  —  have  you 
not?  —  always  to  show  mercy  to  those  I  plead  for." 

"  Make  yourself  quite  easy  on  that  point,"  answered 
Villefort,  with  one  of  his  sweetest  smiles;  "you  and  I 
will  always  consult  upon  our  verdicts." 

"  My  love,"  said  the  marchioness,  "  attend  to  your 
doves,  your  lap-dogs,  and  embroidery,  but  do  not  meddle 
with  what  you  do  not  understand.  Nowadays  the  mili- 
tary profession  has  rest,  and  the  robe  wins  applause; 
there  is  a  Latin  saying  about  that,  of  profound  depth." 

"  '  Cedant  arma  togce,'  "  said  Villefort,  bowing. 

"I  did  not  venture  to  speak  Latin,"  replied  the 
marchioness. 

"  Well,"  said  Ren^e,  "  I  cannot  help  regretting  you  had 
not  chosen  some  other  profession  than  your  own,  —  that 
of  a  physician,  for  instance.  The  destroying  angel,  angel 
though  he  be,  has  always  seemed  terrible  to  me." 

"  Dear,  good  Renee  !  "  whispered  Villefort,  as  he  gazed 
with  unutterable  tenderness  on  the  lovely  speaker. 

"  Let  us  hope,  my  child,"  cried  the  marquis,  *'  that  M. 
de  Villefort  may  prove  the  moral  and  political  physician 
of  this  province ;  if  so,  he  will  have  achieved  a  noble 
work." 

"And  one  which  will  go  far  to  efface  the  recollec- 
tion of  his  father's  conduct,"  added  the  incorrigible 
marchioness. 

"  Madame,"  replied  Villefort,  with  a  mournful  smile, 
"  I  have  already  had  the  honor  to  observe  that  my  father 
has  —  at  least  I  hope  so  —  abjured  his  past  errors,  and 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  75 

that  he  is  at  the  present  moment  a  firm  and  zealous 
friend  to  religion  and  order,  —  a  better  Royalist,  possibly, 
than  his  son  ;  for  he  has  to  atone  for  past  dereliction, 
■while  I  have  no  other  impulse  than  warm,  decided  pref- 
erence and  conviction."  Having  made  this  well-turned 
speech,  Villefort  looked  carefully  round  to  mark  the  effect 
of  his  orator}',  much  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  been 
addressing  the  bench  in  open  court. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear  Villefort,"  cried  the  Comte  de 
Salvieux,  "  that  is  as  nearly  as  possible  what  I  myself  said 
the  other  day  at  the  Tuileries,  when  questioned  by  his 
Majesty's  principal  chamberlain  touching  the  singularity 
of  an  alliance  between  the  son  of  a  Girondin  and  the 
daughter  of  an  officer  in  the  army  of  Conde  ;  and  I  assure 
you  he  seemed  fully  to  comprehend  that  this  mode  of 
reconciling  political  differences  was  based  upon  sound  and 
excellent  principles.  Then  the  king,  who,  without  our 
suspecting  it  had  overheard  our  conversation,  interrupted 
us  by  saying  '  Villefort '  —  observe  that  the  king  did  not 
pronounce  the  word  '  Noirtier,'  but  on  the  contrary  placed 
considerable  emphasis  on  that  of  '  Villefort '  —  '  Villefort,* 
said  his  Majesty,  '  is  a  young  man  of  great  judgment  and 
discretion,  who  will  be  sure  to  make  a  figure  in  his  pro- 
fession ;  I  like  him  much,  and  it  gave  me  great  pleasure 
to  hear  that  he  was  about  to  become  the  son-in-law  of  M. 
le  Marquis  and  Madame  la  Marquise  de  Saint-Meran.  I 
should  myself  have  recommended  the  match,  had  not  the 
noble  marquis  anticipated  my  wishes  by  requesting  my 
consent  to  it.'  " 

"  Did  the  king  say  that,  Count  1 "  asked  the  enraptured 
Villefort. 

"  I  give  you  his  very  words  ;  and  if  the  marquis  chooses 
to  be  candid,  he  will  confess  that  they  perfectly  agree 
■with  what  his  Majesty  said   to  him,  when  he  went  six 


76  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CPJSTO. 

months  ago  to  consult  him  upon  the  subject  of  your 
espousing  his  daughter." 

"Certainly,"  answered  the  marquis;  "you  state  but 
the  truth." 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  this  gracious  prince  !  What  is 
there  I  would  not  do  to  evince  my  earnest  gratitude  !  " 

"  That  is  right,"  cried  the  marchioness,  "  I  love  to  see 
you  thus.  Now,  then,  were  a  conspirator  to  fall  into  your 
hands,  he  would  be  most  welcome." 

"For  my  part,  dear  mother,"  interposed  Renee,  "I 
pray  God  he  will  not  hear  you,  and  that  he  will  only 
permit  petty  offenders,  poor  debtors,  and  miserable  cheats, 
to  fall  into  M.  de  Villefort's  hands ;  then  I  shall  be 
contented." 

"Just  the  same,"  said  Villefort,  laughing,  "as  though 
you  prayed  that  a  physician  might  only  be  called  upon 
to  prescribe  for  headaches,  measles,  and  the  stings  of 
wasps,  or  any  other  slight  affection  of  the  epidermis. 
If  you  wish  to  see  me  the  procureur  du  rot,  you  must  de- 
sire for  me  some  of  those  violent  and  dangerous  diseases 
from  the  cure  of  which  so  much  honor  redounds  to  the 
physician." 

At  this  moment,  and  as  though  the  utterance  of  Ville- 
fort's wish  had  sufficed  to  effect  its  accomplishment,  a 
servant  entered  the  room  and  whispered  a  few  words  in 
his  ear.  Villefort  immediately  rose  from  the  table  and 
quitted  the  room  upon  the  plea  of  urgent  business  :  he  soon 
however  returned,  his  whole  face  beaming  with  delight. 
Renee  regarded  him  with  fond  affection  ;  and  certainly 
his  handsome  features,  lit  up  as  they  then  were  with 
more  than  usual  fire  and  animation,  seemed  formed  to  ex- 
cite the  innocent  admiration  with  which  she  gazed  on  her 
graceful  and  intelligent  lover. 

"  You  were  wishing  just  now,"  said  Villefort,  address- 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUEEUR  DU  ROI.  77 

ing  her,  "  that  I  were  a  doctor  instead  of  a  lawyer.  Well, 
I  at  least  resemble  the  disciples  of  ^sculapius  in  one 
thing,  —  that  of  not  being  able  to  call  a  day  my  own,  not 
even  that  of  my  betrothal." 

"  And  wherefore  were  you  called  away  just  now  1  " 
asked  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-Meran,  with  an  air  of  slight 
uneasiness. 

"  Alas  !  for  a  patient  who  must  be,  if  what  is  told  me 
is  true,  in  the  last  extremity.  It  is  a  serious  case,  and  the 
malady  touches  the  scaffold." 

"  How  dreadful ! "  exclaimed  Renee,  her  cheeks,  that 
were  before  glowing  with  emotion,  becoming  pale  as 
marble. 

"  Is  it  possible  1 "  burst  simultaneously  from  all  who 
were  near  enough  to  the  magistrate  to  hear  his  words. 

"  Why,  if  my  information  prove  correct,  a  sort  of  Bona- 
partist  conspiracy  has  just  been  discovered." 

"  Can  I  believe  my  ears  1  "  cried  the  marchioness. 

"  I  will  read  you  the  letter  containing  the  accusation, 
at  least,"  said  Villefort :  — 

"  The  procureur  du  roi  is  informed  by  a  friend  of  the 
throne  and  of  religion,  that  one  Edmond  Dantes,  mate  of  the 
ship  '  Pharaon,'  who  arrived  this  morning  from  Smyrna,  after 
having  touched  at  Naples  and  Porto  Ferrajo,  has  been  in- 
trusted by  Murat  with  a  letter  for  the  usurper,  and  by  the 
usurper  with  a  letter  for  the  Bonapartist  committee  in  Paris. 

"  Proof  of  this  crime  will  be  found  on  arresting  him,  for 
the  letter  will  be  found  upon  him,  or  at  his  father's,  or  in  his 
cabin  on  board  the  '  Pharaon.'  " 

"  But,"  said  Renee,  "  this  letter,  which  after  all  is  but 
an  anonymous  scrawl,  is  not  even  addressed  to  you,  but 
to  the  procureur  du  roi." 

"  True  ;  but  that  gentleman  being  absent,  his  secretary, 
by  his  orders,  opened  his  letters.     Thinking  this  one  of 


78  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

importance,  he  sent  for  me,  but  not  finding  me,  took  it 
upon  himself  to  give  the  necessary  orders  for  arresting  the 
accused  party." 

"Then  the  guilty  person  is  absolutely  in  custody?" 
said  the  marchioness. 

"  That  is  to  say,  the  accused,"  said  Ren^e. 

"  He  is  in  safe  custody,"  answered  Villefort ;   "  and  as 
I  had  the  honor  of  saying  just   now  to   Mademoiselle 
Kenee,  if  the  letter  in  question  can  be  found,  the  patient 
is  a  very  sick  man  indeed." 
^     "  And  where  is  the  unfortunate  being  1 "  asked  Renee. 

"  He  is  at  my  house." 

"Come,  come,  my  friend,"  interrupted  the  marchioness, 
"  do  not  neglect  your  duty  to  linger  with  us.  You  are 
the  king's  servant,  and  must  go  whithersoever  that  service 
calls  you." 

"  Oh,  M.  de  Villefort ! "  cried  Renee,  clasping  her 
hands,  "  be  merciful  on  this  the  day  of  our  betrothah" 

The  young  man  passed  round  to  the  side  of  the  table 
where  the  fair  pleader  sat,  and  leaning  over  her  chair 
said  tenderly,  — 

"  To  give  you  pleasure,  my  sweet  Renee,  I  promise  to 
show  all  the  lenity  in  my  power ;  but  if  the  charges 
brought  against  this  Bonapartist  hero  prove  correct,  why, 
then,  you  really  must  give  me  leave  to  order  his  head  to 
be  cut  off." 

Renee,  with  an  almost  convulsive  shudder,  turned  away 
her  head,  as  though  the  very  mention  of  killing  a  fellow- 
creature  in  cold  blood  was  more  than  her  tender  nature 
could  endure. 

"  Never  mind  that  foolish  girl,  Villefort,"  said  the  mar- 
chioness ;  "  she  will  soon  get  over  these  things."  So  say- 
ing, Madame  de  Saint-Meran  extended  her  dry  bony  hand 
to  Villefort,  which  he  kissed,  while  looking  at  Renee  and 


THE  DEPUTY  PROCUREUR  DU  ROI.  79 

saying  with  his  eyes,  "It  is  your  hand  that  I  kiss,  or  at 
least  that  I  wish  I  were  kissing,  at  this  moment." 

"  These  are  mournful  auspices  to  accompany  a  be- 
trothal !  "  sighed  poor  Eenee. 

"  Upon  my  word,  child ! "  exclaimed  the  angry  mar- 
chioness, "  your  folly  exceeds  all  bounds.  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  what  connection  there  can  possibly  be  be- 
tween your  sickly  sentimentality  and  the  affairs  of  the 
State !  " 

"  Oh,  Mother  !  "  murmured  Renee. 

"  Nay,  Madame,  I  pray  you  pardon  this  little  traitor," 
said  Villefort ;  "I  promise  you  that  to  make  up  for  her 
want  of  loyalty  I  will  be  most  inflexibly  severe."  But 
while  the  magistrate  addressed  these  words  to  the  mar- 
chioness, the  lover  threw  an  expressive  glance  at  his  hp- 
trothed,  which  said,  "  Be  tranquil,  Renee ;  for  the  sake 
of  your  love  I  will  be  merciful."  Renee  answered  that 
look  with  her  sweetest  smile,  and  Villefort  went  out  with 
paradise  in  his  heart. 


80  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTEE    VII. 

THE    EXAMINATION. 

No  sooner  had  Villefort  left  the  salon  than  he  assumed 
the  grave  air  of  a  man  who  holds  the  balance  of  life  and 
death  in  his  hands.  Now,  in  spite  of  the  mobility  of  his 
features,  —  a  mobility  which  the  deputy  had  cultivated 
often  before  the  mirror,  as  a  professional  speaker  should,  — 
at  this  moment  it  required  an  effort  for  him  to  wrinkle 
his  brows  and  assume  a  dignified  sobriety.  Except  for  the 
recollection  of  the  line  of  politics  his  father  had  adopted, 
and  which  might  interfere,  unless  he  acted  with  the  great- 
est prudence,  with  his  own  career,  Villefort  was  as  happy 
as  a  man  could  be.  Already  rich,  he  held  a  high  offi- 
cial situation,  though  only  twenty-seven.  He  was  about 
to  marry  a  young  and  charming  woman,  whom  he  loved 
not  passionately  but  reasonably,  as  a  dej^uty  procureur 
du  roi  is  able  to  love.  Besides  her  beauty,  which  was 
remarkable.  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-Meran,  his  betrothed, 
belonged  to  one  of  the  families  in  highest  standing  in 
the  court  of  that  period ;  and  in  addition  to  the  political 
influence  of  her  father  and  her  mother,  who  having  no 
other  child  could  devote  it  entirely  to  their  son-in-law, 
she  brought  to  her  husband  a  dowry  of  fifty  thousand 
crowns,  which  might  some  day  be  increased  to  an  inheri- 
tance of  half  a  million.  All  tliese  elements  combined 
constituted  for  Villefort  a  ravishing  sum  of  happiness ; 
so  that  when  with  an  inward  view  he  contemplated 
steadily  his  interior  life,  it  was  as  if  he  looked  at  spots  on 
the  sun. 


THE  EXAMINATION.  81 

At  the  door  Villefort  met  the  commissary  of  police, 
■who  was  waiting  for  him.  The  sight  of  this  officer  re- 
called him  from  the  third  heaven  to  earth  ;  he  composed 
his  face  as  we  have  before  described,  and  said,  "  I  have 
read  the  letter,  Monsieur,  and  you  have  acted  rightly  in 
arresting  this  man ;  now  inform  me  what  you  have  dis- 
covered concerning  him  and  the  conspiracy." 

"  We  know  nothing  as  yet  of  the  conspiracy,  Monsieur; 
all  the  papers  found  have  been  sealed  up  and  placed  on 
your  bureau.  The  prisoner  himself  is  named  Edmond 
Dantes,  mate  on  board  the  three-master  the  '  Pharaon,' 
trading  in  cotton  with  Alexandria  and  Smyrna,  and  be- 
longing to  Morrel  and  Son  of  Marseilles." 

"  Before  he  entered  the  navy,  had  he  ever  served  in  the 
marines?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Monsieur  ;  he  is  very  young." 

«  How  old  ?  " 

"  Nineteen  or  twenty  at  the  most." 

At  this  moment,  as  Villefort  arrived  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  des  Conseils,  a  man  who  seemed  to  have  been  waiting 
for  him  approached  ;  it  was  M.  Morrel. 

"Ah,  M.  de  Villefort,"  cried  he,  "I  am  delighted  to 
see  you  !  Some  of  your  people  have  committed  the  strangest 
mistake,  —  they  have  just  arrested  Edmond  Dantes,  the 
mate  of  my  ship." 

"  I  know  it,  Monsieur,"  replied  Villefort,  "  and  I  am  now 
going  to  examine  him." 

"  Oh,"  said  Morrel,  carried  away  by  his  friendship  for 
the  young  man,  "  you  do  not  know  him,  and  I  do.  He  is 
the  most  estimable,  the  most  trustworthy  creature  in  the 
world,  and  I  will  venture  to  say  there  is  not  a  better  sea- 
man in  all  the  merchant-service.  Oh,  M.  de  Villefort,  I 
beseech  your  indulgence  for  him  !  " 

Villefort,  as  we  have  seen,  belonged  to  the  aristocratic 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


82  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

party  at  Marseilles,  Morrel  to  the  plebeian ;  the  first  was 
a  Eoyalist,  the  other  suspected  of  Boiiapartism.  Villefort 
looked  disdainfully  at  Morrel,  and  replied  coolly,  — 

"  You  are  aware,  Monsieur,  that  a  man  may  be  estima- 
ble and  trustworthy  in  private  life,  and  the  best  seaman 
in  the  merchant-service,  and  yet  be,  politically  speaking,  a 
great  criminal.     Is  it  not  true  1 " 

The  magistrate  laid  emphasis  on  these  words,  as  if  he 
wished  to  apply  them  to  the  owner  himself,  while  his 
eyes  seemed  to  plunge  into  the  heart  of  him  who  inter- 
ceded for  another  when  he  ought  to  know  that  he  himself 
had  need  of  indulgence.  Morrel  reddened,  for  his  own 
conscience  was  not  quite  clear  in  political  matters  ;  besides, 
what  Dantes  had  told  him  of  his  interview  with  the 
grand-marshal,  and  what  the  emperor  had  said  to  him, 
embarrassed  him.  He  replied,  however,  in  tones  of  deep 
interest,  — 

"  I  entreat  you,  M.  de  Villefort,  be,  as  you  always 
are,  kind  and  equitable,  and  give  him  back  to  us  soon." 

This  "give  us  "sounded  revolutionary  in  the  sub-prefect's 
ears.  "  Ah,  ah  !  "  murmured  he, "  is  Dantes  then  a  member 
of  some  Carbonari  society,  that  his  protector  thus  employs 
the  collective  form  1  He  was,  if  I  recollect,  arrested  in  a 
cabaret,  in  company  with  a  great  many  others."  Then 
he  added,  "  Monsieur,  you  may  rest  assured  I  shall  per- 
form my  duty  impartially,  and  that  if  he  be  innocent  you 
shall  not  have  appealed  to  me  in  vain  ;  should  he,  how- 
ever, be  guilty,  in  this  present  epoch  impunity  wouhl 
furnish  a  dangerous  example,  and  I  must  do  my  duty." 

As  he  had  now  arrived  at  the  'door  of  his  own  house, 
which  adjoined  the  Palais  de  Justice,  he  entered  after 
having  saluted  the  ship-owner  with  icy  politeness,  who 
stood  as  if  petrified  on  the  spot  where  Villefort  had  left 
him.     The  ante-chamber  was  full  of  agents  of  police  and 


THE  EXAMINATION.  83 

gendarmes,  in  the  midst  of  whom,  carefully  watched  but 
calm  and  smiling,  stood  the  prisoner.  Villefort  traversed 
the  ante-chamber,  cast  a  side  glance  at  Dantes,  and  taking  a 
packet  which  a  gendarme  offered  him,  disappeared,  saying, 
"  Bring  in  the  prisoner." 

Eapid  as  had  been  Villefort's  glance,  it  had  served  to 
give  him  an  idea  of  the  man  he  was  about  to  interrogate. 
He  had  recognized  intelligence  in  the  high  forehead,  cour- 
age in  the  dark  eye  and  bent  brow,  and  frankness  in  the 
thick,  half-open  lips  that  showed  a  set  of  pearly  teeth. 
Villefort's  first  impression  was  favorable ;  but  he  had 
been  so  often  warned  to  mistrust  first  impulses  that  he 
applied  the  maxim  to  the  impression,  forgetting  the  dif- 
ference between  the  two  words.  He  stifled,  therefore, 
the  feelings  of  compassion  that  were  rising,  composed  his 
features,  and  sat  down  at  his  bureau.  An  instant  after 
Dantes  entered.  He  was  pale,  but  calm  and  smiling,  and 
saluting  his  judge  with  easy  politeness,  looked  round  for  a 
seat,  as  if  he  had  been  in  the  salon  of  M.  Morrel.  It  was 
then  that  he  encountered  for  the  first  time  Villefort's  look, 
—  that  look  peculiar  to  justice,  which  while  it  seems  to 
read  the  culprit's  thoughts  betrays  nought  of  its  own. 

"  Who  and  what  are  you  1 "  demanded  Villefort,  turning 
over  a  pile  of  papers,  containing  information  relative  to 
the  prisoner,  that  an  agent  of  police  had  given  to  him  on 
his  entry. 

"  My  name  is  Edmond  Dantes,"  replied  the  young  man, 
calmly ;  "  I  am  mate  of  the  '  Pharaon,'  belonging  to 
MM.  Morrel  and  Son." 

"  Your  age  1  "  continued  Villefort. 

"Nineteen,"  returned  Dantes. 

"What  were  you  doing  at  the  moment  you  were 
arrested  1 " 

"  I  was  at  the  festival  of  my  marriage,  Monsieur,"  said 


84  THE  COUNT   or   MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  young  man,  his  voice  slightly  tremulous,  so  great  was 
the  contrast  between  that  happy  moment  and  the  painful 
ceremony  he  was  now  undergoing ;  so  great  was  the  con- 
trast between  the  sombre  aspect  of  M.  de  Villefort  and  the 
radiant  face  of  Mercedes. 

"  You  were  at  the  festival  of  your  marriage  1 "  said  the 
deputy,  shuddering  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  I  am  on  the  point  of  marrying  a  young 
girl  I  have  been  attached  to  for  three  years."  Villefort, 
impassive  as  he  was,  was  struck  with  this  coincidence  ; 
and  the  tremulous  voice  of  Dantes,  surprised  in  the  midst 
of  his  happiness,  struck  a  sympathetic  chord  in  his  own 
bosom.  He  also  was  on  the  point  of  being  married,  and 
he  was  summoned  from  his  own  happiness  to  destroy  that 
of  another.  "  This  philosophic  reflection,"  thought  he, 
"  will  make  a  great  sensation  at  M.  de  Saint-Meran's  ;  "  and 
he  arranged  mentally,  while  Dantes  awaited  further  ques- 
tions, the  antithesis  by  which  orators  often  create  a  repu- 
tation for  eloquence.  When  this  speech  was  arranged, 
Villefort  smiled  at  its  probable  effectiveness,  and  returned 
to  Dantes. 

"  Continue,  sir,"  said  he. 

"What  would  you  have  me  continue?  " 

"  To  give  all  the  information  in  your  power." 

"  Tell  me  on  which  point  you  desire  information,  and  I 
will  tell  all  I  know  ;  only,"  added  he,  with  a  smile,  "  I 
warn  you  I  know  very  little." 

"  Have  you  served  under  the  usurper?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  be  incorporated  in  the  royal  marines 
when  he  fell." 

"  It  is  reported  your  political  opinions  are  extreme," 
said  Villefort,  who  had  never  heard  anything  of  the  kind, 
but  was  not  sorry  to  make  this  inquiry  as  if  it  were  an 
accusation. 


THE  EXAMINATION.  85 

"My  political  opinions  !  mine ! "  replied  Dantes.  "Alas, 
sir,  I  never  had  any  oiiinions,  I  am  hardly  nineteen  ;  I 
know  nothing  ;  I  have  no  part  to  play.  If  I  obtain  the  sit- 
uation I  desire,  I  shall  owe  it  to  M.  Morrel.  Thus  all  my 
opinions  —  I  will  not  say  political,  but  private  —  are  con- 
fined to  these  three  sentiments  :  I  love  my  father,  I  respect 
M.  Morrel,  and  I  adore  Mercedes.  This,  sir,  is  all  I  can 
tell  you ;  and  you  see  how  uninteresting  it  is." 

As  Dantes  spoke,  Villefort  gazed  at  his  ingenuous  and 
open  countenance,  and  recollected  the  words  of  Renee, 
who  without  knowing  who  the  culprit  was,  had  besought 
his  indulgence  for  iiim.  With  the  deputy's  knowledge  of 
crime  and  criminals,  every  word  the  young  man  uttered 
convinced  him  more  and  more  of  his  innocence.  This 
lad,  —  for  lie  was  scarcely  a  man,  —  simple,  natural,  elo- 
quent with  that  eloquence  of  the  heart  never  found  when 
sought  for,  full  of  affection  for  everybody  because  he  was 
happy,  and  because  happiness  renders  even  the  wicked 
good,  extended  his  affection  even  to  his  judge,  spite  of 
Viilefort's  severe  look  and  stern  accent. 

"  Par  (lieu  !  "  said  Villefort,  "  he  is  a  noble  fellow  !  I 
hope  I  shall  gain  Eenee's  favor  easily  by  obeying  the  first 
command  she  ever  imposed  on  me.  It  will  win  me  a 
pressure  of  the  hand  in  public,  and  a  sweet  kiss  in  pri- 
vate." Full  of  this  idea,  Viilefort's  face  became  so  joyous 
that  when  he  turned  to  Dantes,  the  latter,  Avho  had 
watched  the  change  on  his  physiognomy,  was  smiling 
also. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Villefort,  "  are  you  aware  of  having 
enemies  1 " 

"  I  have  enemies  !  "  replied  Dantes  ;  "  my  position  is  not 
sufficiently  elevated  for  that.  As  for  my  character,  that 
is,  perhaps,  somewhat  too  hasty  ;  but  I  have  striven  to 
repress  it.     I  have  ten  or  twelve  sailors  under  me  ;  and  if 


86  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

you  qtiestion  them,  they  will  tell  you  that  they  love  and 
respect  me,  not  as  a  father,  for  I  am  too  young,  but  as  an 
elder  brother." 

'*  But  instead  of  enemies  you  may  have  excited  jealousy. 
You  are  about  to  become  captain  at  nineteen,  —  an  ele- 
vated post  for  one  in  your  condition ;  you  are  about  to 
marry  a  pretty  girl  who  loves  you,  —  a  happiness  rare  in 
all  conditions  in  the  world.  And  these  two  pieces  of  good 
fortune  may  have  excited  the  envy  of  some  one." 

"  You  are  right.  You  know  men  better  than  I  do,  and 
what  you  say  may  possibly  be  the  case,  I  confess ;  but  if 
these  envious  ones  should  be  among  my  friends,  I  prefer 
not  knowing  them  to  being  forced  to  hate  them." 

"  You  are  wrong ;  you  should  always  strive  to  see 
clearly  around  you.  You  seem  a  worthy  young  man ;  I 
will  depart  from  the  strict  line  of  my  duty  to  aid  you  in 
discovering  the  author  of  this  accusation.  Here  is  the 
paper;  do  you  know  the  writing  1"  As  he  spoke,  Ville- 
fort  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket  and  presented  it  to 
Dantes.  Dantes  read  it.  A  cloud  passed  over  his  brow 
as  he  said,  — 

"  No,  Monsieur,  I  do  not  know  the  writing ;  it  is  dis- 
guised, and  yet  it  is  freely  written.  Whoever  did  it  writes 
well.  I  am  very  fortunate,"  added  he,  looking  gratefully 
at  Villefort,  "  to  be  examined  by  such  a  man  as  you,  —  for 
this  envious  person  is  a  real  enemy."  And  by  the  rapid 
glance  that  the  young  man's  eyes  shot  forth,  Villefort  saw 
how  much  energy  lay  hid  beneath  this  mildness. 

"  Now,"  said  the  deputy,  "  answer  me  frankly,  —  not 
as  a  prisoner  to  a  judge,  but  as  a  man  in  a  false  position 
to  another  who  takes  an  interest  in  him, — what  truth  is 
there  in  the  accusation  contained  in  this  anonymous  let- 
ter?" And  Villefort  threw  disdainfully  on  his  bureau  the 
letter  Dantes  had  just  given  back  to  him. 


THE  EXAMINATION.  87 

"None  at  all.  I  will  tell  you  the  real  facts.  I  swear 
by  my  honor  as  a  sailor,  by  my  love  for  Mercedes,  by  the 
life  of  my  father  —  " 

"  Speak,  Monsieur,"  said  Villefort.  Then,  internally, 
"  If  Renee  could  see  me,  I  hope  she  would  be  satisfied, 
and  would  no  longer  call  me  a  decapitator." 

"  Well,  when  we  quitted  iSTaples,  Captain  Leclere  was 
attacked  with  a  brain  fever.  As  we  had  no  doctor  on 
board,  and  he  was  so  anxious  to  arrive  at  Elba  that  he 
would  not  touch  at  any  other  port,  his  disorder  rose  to 
such  a  height  that  at  the  end  of  the  third  day,  feeling  he 
was  dying,  he  called  me  to  him.  'My  dear  Dantes,'  said 
he,  *  swear  to  perform  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  for  it 
is  a  matter  of  the  deepest  importance.' 

"  *  I  swear,  Captain,'  replied  I. 

"  '  Well,  as  after  my  death  the  command  devolves  on 
you  as  mate,  assume  the  command,  and  bear  up  for  the 
Isle  of  Elba;  disembark  at  Porto  Ferrajo,  ask  for  the 
grand-marshal,  give  him  this  letter;  perhaps  they  will 
give  you  another  letter,  and  charge  you  with  a  commission. 
You  will  accomplish  wdiat  I  was  to  have  done,  and  derive 
all  the  honor  and  profit  from  it.' 

" '  I  will  do  it.  Captain ;  but  perhaps  I  shall  not  be 
admitted  to  the  grand-marshal's  presence  as  easily  as 
you  expect  1 ' 

" '  Here  is  a  ring  that  will  obtain  audience  of  him,  and 
remove  every  diflBculty,'  said  the  captain.  At  these  words 
he  gave  me  a  ring.  It  was  time,  —  two  hours  after  he 
was  delirious  ;  the  next  day  he  died." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  then  1 " 

"  What  I  ought  to  have  done,  and  what  every  one 
would  have  done  in  my  place.  Everywhere  the  last  re- 
quests of  a  dying  man  are  sacred ;  but  with  a  sailor  the 
last  requests  of  his  superior  are  commands.     I  sailed  for 


88  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  Isle  of  Elba,  where  I  arrived  the  next  day ;  I  ordered 
everybody  to  remain  on  board,  and  went  on  shore  alone. 
As  I  had  expected,  I  found  some  difficulty  in  obtaining 
access  to  the  grand-marshal ;  but  I  sent  the  ring  I  had 
received  from  the  captain  to  him,  and  was  instantly  ad- 
mitted. He  questioned  me  concerning  Captain  Leclere's 
death,  and,  as  the  latter  had  told  me,  gave  me  a  letter  to 
carry  on  to  a  person  in  Paris.  I  undertook  it  because  it 
was  what  my  captain  had  bade  me  do.  I  landed  here, 
regulated  the  affairs  of  the  vessel,  and  hastened  to  visit 
my  affianced  bride,  whom  I  found  more  lovely  and  more 
loving  than  ever.  Thanks  to  M.  Morrel,  all  the  forms 
were  got  over;  in  a  word,  I  was,  as  I  told  you,  at  my 
marriage-feast.  And  I  should  have  been  married  in  an 
hour,  and  to-morrow  I  intended  to  start  for  Paris,  when 
upon  that  denunciation,  which  you  now  seem  to  despise 
as  much  as  I  do,  I  was  arrested." 

"  Ah  ! ''  said  Villefort,  "  this  seems  to  me  the  truth.  If 
you  have  been  culpable,  it  was  imprudence,  and  this  im- 
prudence was  legitimized  by  the  orders  of  your  captain. 
Give  up  this  letter  you  have  brought  from  Elba,  and  pass 
your  word  you  will  appear  should  you  be  required,  and  go 
and  rejoin  your  friends." 

"  I  am  free,  then,  sir  1 "  cried  Dantes,  joyfully. 

"Yes;  but  first  give  me  this  letter." 

"  You  have  it  already ;  for  it  was  taken  from  me  with 
some  others  which  I  see  in  that  packet." 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  the  deputy,  as  Dantes  took  his 
hat  and  gloves.     "To  whom  is  it  addressed  ?  " 

"To  M.  Noirtier,  Rue  Coq- Heron,  Paris." 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  into  the  room,  Villefort 
could  not  have  been  more  stupefied.  He  sank  into  his  seat, 
and  hastily  turning  over  the  packet,  drew  forth  the  fatal 
letter,  at  which  he  glanced  with  an  expression  of  terror. 


THE  EXAMINATION.  89 

"M.  Noirtier,  Rue  Coq-Heron,  No.  13,"  murmured  he, 
growing  still  paler. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dantes,  astonished  ;  "  do  you,  then,  know 
him  1 " 

"  No,"  replied  Villefort ;  "  a  faithful  servant  of  the  king 
does  not  know  conspirators." 

"  It  is  a  conspiracy,  then  1 "  asked  Dantes,  who,  after 
believing  himself  free,  now  began  to  feel  a  greater  alarm 
than  at  first.  "  I  have  already  told  you,  however,  Mon- 
sieur, that  I  was  ignorant  of  the  contents  of  the  letter." 

"Yes,  but  you  know  the  name  of  the  person  to  whom 
it  was  addressed,"  said  Villefort. 

"  I  was  obliged  to  read  the  address  to  know  to  whom 
to  give  it." 

"  Have  you  shown  this  letter  to  any  one  ] "  asked  Ville- 
fort, becoming  still  more  pale. 

"  To  no  one,  on  my  honor." 

"  Everybody  is  ignorant  that  you  are  the  bearer  of  a 
letter  from  the  Isle  of  Elba,  and  addressed  to  M.  Noirtier  1" 

"  Everybody,  except  the  person  who  gave  it  to  me." 

"This  is  too  much,"  murmured  Villefort.  His  brow 
darkened  more  and  more ;  his  white  lips  and  set  teeth 
filled  Dantes  with  apprehension.  After  reading  the  letter, 
Villefort  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

.  "  Oh  !  "  said  Dantes,  timidly,  "  what  is  the  matter  1 " 
Villefort  made  no  answer,  but  raised  his  head  at  the  expi- 
ration of  a  few  seconds,  and  again  perused  the  letter. 

"  You  give  me  your  honor  that  you  are  ignorant  of  the 
contents  of  this  letter  1 " 

"  I  give  you  my  honor,  sir,"  said  Dantes ;  "  but  what 
is  the  matter  1  You  are  ill.  Shall  I  ring  for  assistance; 
shall  I  call  ]  " 

"  No,"  said  Villefort,  rising  hastily ;  "  stay  where  you 
are.     It  is  for  me  to  give  orders  here,  and  not  you." 


90  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  Dautes,  proudly,  "it  was  only  to 

summon  assistance  for  you." 

"  I  want  none ;  it  was  a  temporary  indisposition.  At- 
tend to  yourself,  and  not  to  me  ;  answer  me." 

Dantes  waited,  expecting  a  question,  but  in  vain,  Ville- 
fort  fell  back  on  his  chair,  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow, 
moist  with  perspiration,  and  for  the  third  time  read  the 
letter.  "  Oh,  if  he  knows  the  contents  of  this,"  mur- 
mured he,  "  and  that  Noirtier  is  the  father  of  Villefort, 
I  am  lost  !  "  and  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Edmond  as  if  he 
would  have  penetrated  his  thoughts. 

"  Oh  !  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  it,"  cried  he,  suddenly. 

"In  Heaven's  name,"  cried  the  unhappy  young  man, 
"  if  you  doubt  me,  question  me  ;   I  will  answer  you." 

Villefort  made  a  violent  effort,  and  in  a  tone  he  strove 
to  render  firm,  "  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  very  grave  charges 
against  you  result  from  your  examination.  I  am  no 
longer  able,  as  I  had  hoped,  to  restore  you  immediately 
to  liberty.  Before  doing  so,  I  must  consult  the  judge  of 
instruction;  but  you  see  how  I  behave  towards  you." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,"  cried  Dantes,  "  you  have  been  rather 
a  friend  than  a  judge." 

"  Well,  I  must  detain  you  some  time  longer,  but  I  will 
make  it  as  short  as  possible.  The  principal  charge  against 
you  is  this  letter,  and  you  see  —  "  Villefort  approached  the 
fire,  cast  it  in,  and  waited  until  it  was  entirely  consumed. 

"  You  see  I  destroy  it." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Dantes,  "  you  are  more  than  justice, 
you  are  goodness  itself." 

"  Listen,"  continued  Villefort ;  "  you  can  now  have 
confidence  in  me,  after  what  I  have  done." 

"  Oh,  order  me,  and  I  will  obey  !  " 

*'  Listen  !  this  is  not  an  order,  but  a  counsel  I  give  you." 

"  Speak,  and  I  will  follow  your  advice," 


THE  EXAMINATION.  91 

"  I  shall  detain  you  until  this  evening  in  the  Palais  de 
Justice.  Should  any  one  else  interrogate  you,  do  not 
breathe  a  word  of  this  letter." 

"I  promise." 

It  was  Villefort  who  seemed  to  entreat,  and  the  pris- 
oner who  reassured  him.  "  You  see,"  continued  he,  "  the 
letter  is  destroyed ;  you  and  I  alone  know  of  its  exis- 
tence. Should  you,  therefore,  be  questioned,  deny  all 
knowledge  of  it." 

"  Fear  nothing  ;  I  will  deny  it." 

"  It  was  the  only  letter  you  had] " 

"  It  was." 

"  Swear  it." 

"  I  swear  it." 

Villefort  rang.  An  agent  of  police  entered.  Villefort 
whispered  some  words  in  his  ear,  to  which  the  officer 
replied  by  a  motion  of  his  head. 

"  Follow  him,"  said  Villefort  to  Dantes.  Dantes  sa- 
luted Villefort  and  retired.  The  door  had  hardly  closed 
behind  him  when  Villefort's  strength  gave  way  and  he 
threw  himself  into  a  chair  in  a  fainting  condition. 

Then,  after  a  moment,  "  Oh,  my  God  ! "  murmured  he, 
"  if  the  procureur  du  roi  had  been  at  Marseilles,  if  the 
judge  of  instruction  had  been  called  instead  of  me,  I 
should  have  been  ruined.  This  accursed  letter  would 
have  plunged  me  into  an  abyss.  Oh,  my  father,  must 
your  past  career  always  interfere  with  my  successes  1  " 
Suddenly  a  light  passed  over  his  face,  a  smile  played 
round  his  mouth,  his  haggard  eyes  became  fixed  and 
seemed  absorbed   in  the   contemplation  of  an  idea. 

"  This  will  do,"  said  he  ;  "  and  from  this  letter,  which 
might  have  ruined  me,  I  will  make  my  fortune."  And 
after  having  assured  himself  the  prisoner  was  gone,  the 
deputy  procureiir  hastened  to  the  house  of  his  bride. 


92  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

THE    CHATEAU    D'iF. 

The  commissary  of  police,  as  he  crossed  the  ante-cham- 
ber, made  a  sign  to  two  gendarmes,  who  placed  them- 
selves one  on  Dantes's  right  and  the  other  on  his  left. 
A  door  that  communicated  with  the  Palais  de  Justice  was 
opened,  and  they  traversed  a  long  range  of  gloomy  corri- 
dors, whose  appearance  might  have  made  even  the  boldest 
shudder.  The  Palais  de  Justice  communicated  with  the 
prison,  —  a  sombre  edifice,  that  from  its  grated  windows 
looks  on  the  clock-tower  of  the  Accoules.  After  number- 
less windings,  Dantes  saw  an  iron  door.  The  commissary 
knocked  thrice,  every  blow  seeming  to  Dantes  as  if  struck 
on  his  heart.  The  door  opened,  the  two  gendarmes  gen- 
tly pushed  him  forward,  and  the  door  closed  with  a  loud 
sound  behind  him.  The  air  he  inhaled  was  no  longer 
pure,  but  thick  and  mephitic,  — he  was  in  prison.  He 
was  conducted  to  a  tolerably  neat  chamber,  but  grated  and 
"barred,  and  its  appearance  therefore  did  not  greatly  alarm 
him ;  besides,  the  words  of  Villefort,  who  seemed  to  in- 
terest himself  so  much,  resounded  still  in  his  ears  like  a 
promise  of  freedom.  It  was  four  o'clock  when  Dantes 
was  placed  in  this  chamber.  It  was,  as  we  have  said,  the 
1st  of  March,  and  the  prisoner  was  soon  buried  in  dark- 
ness. The  obscurity  augmented  the  acuteness  of  his  hear- 
ing. At  the  slightest  sound  he  rose  and  hastened  to  the 
door,  convinced  that  they  were  about  to  liberate  him  ;  but 
the  sound  died  away,  and  Dantes  sank  again  into  his  seat. 


THE  CHATEAU   D'IF.  93 

At  last,  about  ten  o'clock,  and  just  as  Dantes  began  to 
despair,  steps  were  heard  in  the  corridor,  a  key  turned  in 
the  lock,  the  bolts  creaked,  the  massy  oaken  door  flew 
open,  and  a  flood  of  light  from  two  torches  pervaded  the 
apartment.  By  the  torchlight  Dantes  saw  the  glittering 
sabres  and  carbines  of  four  gendarmes.  He  had  advanced 
at  first,  but  stopped  at  the  sight  of  this  fresh  accession  of 
force. 

"  Are  you  come  to  fetch  me  1 "  asked  he. 

"  Yes,"  replied  a  gendarme. 

"  By  the  orders  of  the  deputy  of  the  procureur  du 
roi  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"Very  weD,"  said  Dantes,  "I  am  ready  to  follow 
you." 

The  conviction  that  they  came  from  M.  de  Villefort  re- 
lieved all  Dantes's  apprehensions  ;  he  advanced  calmly, 
and  placed  himself  in  the  centre  of  the  escort.  A  carriage 
waited  at  the  door,  the  coachman  was  on  the  box,  and  an 
exempt  seated  behind  him. 

"  Is  this  carriage  for  me  1 "  said  Dantes. 

"  It  is  for  you,"  replied  a  gendarme. 

Dantes  was  about  to  speak  ;  but  feeling  himself  urged 
forward,  and  having  neither  the  power  nor  the  intention 
to  resist,  he  mounted  the  steps,  and  was  in  an  instant 
seated  inside  between  two  gendarmes  ;  the  two  others 
took  their  places  opposite,  and  the  carriage  rolled  heavily 
over  the  stones. 

The  prisoner  glanced  at  the  windows  ;  they  were  grated. 
He  had  changed  his  prison  for  another  that  was  conveying 
him  he  knew  not  whither.  Through  the  grating,  however, 
Dantes  saw  they  were  passing  through  the  Rue  Caisserie, 
and  by  the  Quai  St.  Laurent  and  the  Rue  Taramis,  to 
the   port.      Presently   he   perceived,   shining   upon   him 


94  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

through  the  grating  of  the  windows,  the  light  of  the 
Consigne. 

The  carriage  stopped,  the  exempt  descended  and  ap- 
proached the  guard-house,  a  dozen  soldiers  came  out  and 
formed  themselves  in  order;  Dantes  saw  the  reflection  of 
their  muskets  by  the  light  of  the  lamps  on  the  quay. 

"  Can  all  this  force  be  summoned  on  my  account  ? " 
thought  he. 

The  exempt  opened  the  door,  which  was  locked,  and 
without  speaking  a  word,  answered  Dantes's  question,  —  for 
he  saw  between  the  ranks  of  the  soldiers  a  passage  formed 
from  the  carriage  to  the  port.  The  two  gendarmes  who 
were  opposite  to  him  descended  first,  then  he  Avas  ordered 
to  alight,  and  the  gendarmes  on  each  side  of  him  followed 
his  example.  They  advanced  towards  a  boat,  which  a 
custom-house  officer  held  by  a  chain  near  the  quay. 

The  soldiers  looked  at  Dantes  with  an  air  of  stupid 
curiosity.  In  an  instant  he  was  placed  in  the  stern  of 
the  boat  between  the  gendarmes,  while  the  exempt  sta- 
tioned himself  at  the  bow ;  a  shove  sent  the  boat  adrift, 
and  four  sturdy  oarsmen  impelled  it  rapidly  towards  the 
Pilon.  At  a  shout  from  the  boat,  the  chain  that  closes 
the  mouth  of  the  port  was  lowered,  and  in  a  second  they 
were  outside  the  liarbor. 

The  prisoner's  first  feeling  was  joy  at  again  breathing 
the  pure  air,  —  for  air  is  freedom ;  he  inhaled  with  a  full 
chest  that  lively  breeze  which  bears  upon  its  wings  the 
unknown  perfumes  of  the  night  and  of  the  sea.  But  soon 
he  breathed  a  sigh,  for  he  passed  before  La  Reserve,  where 
he  had  that  morning  been  so  happy,  and  now  through  the 
open  windows  came  the  laughter  and  revelry  of  a  ball. 
Dantes  folded  his  hands,  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
prayed. 

The  boat  continued  her  voj^ige.     They  had  passed  the 


THE  CHATEAU  D'IF.  95 

TSte  de  Mort,  were  now  in  front  of  the  light-house,  and 
about  to  double  the  battery.  This  manoeuvre  was  incom- 
prehensible to  Dantes. 

"  Whither  are  you  taking  me  1 "  asked  he. 

"You  will  soon  know." 

"But  still  —  " 

"  We  are  forbidden  to  give  you  any  explanation." 

Dantes  knew  that  nothing  would  be  more  absurd  than 
to  question  subordinates  who  were  forbidden  to  reply,  and 
remained  silent. 

The  most  vague  and  wild  thoughts  passed  through  his 
mind.  The  boat  they  were  in  could  not  make  a  long  voy- 
age ;  there  was  no  vessel  at  anchor  outside  the  harbor ;  he 
thought  perhaps  they  were  going  to  leave  him  on  some  dis- 
tant point.  He  was  not  bound,  nor  had  they  made  any 
attempt  to  handcuff  him ;  tliis  seemed  a  good  augury. 
Besides,  had  not  the  deputy,  who  had  been  so  kind  to 
him,  told  him  that  provided  he  did  not  pronounce  the 
dreaded  name  of  Noirtier  he  had  nothing  to  appreliend  ] 
Had  not  Villefort  in  his  presence  destroyed  the  fatal  letter, 
the  only  proof  against  him  1  He  waited  silently,  striving 
to  pierce  through  the  darkness. 

They  had  left  the  island  of  Ratonneau,  where  the  light- 
house stood,  on  the  right,  and  wore  now  opposite  the  Point 
des  Catalans.  It  seemed  to  the  prisoner  that  he  could 
distinguish  a  female  form  on  the  beach,  for  it  was  there 
Mercedes  dwelt.  How  was  it  that  a  presentiment  did 
not  warn  Mercedes  that  her  lover  was  near  her  1 

One  light  alone  was  visible,  and  Dantes  recognized  it  as 
coming  from  the  chamber  of  Mercedes.  In  all  tliat  little 
colony  Mercedes  alone  was  still  awake.  A  loud  cry  could 
be  heard  by  her.  He  did  not  utter  it.  What  would  his 
guards  think  if  they  heard  him  shout  like  a  madman  1 

He  remained  silent,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  light ;  the 


96  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

boat  went  on,  but  the  prisoner  thought  only  of  Mercedes. 
A  rising  ground  hid  the  light.  Dantes  turned  and  per- 
ceived they  had  got  out  to  sea.  While  he  had  been 
absorbed  in  thought,  they  had  hoisted  the  sail. 

In  spite  of  his  repugnance  to  address  the  guards,  Dantes 
turned  to  the  nearest  gendarme,  and  taking  his  hand,  — 

"Comrade,"  said  he,  "  I  adjure  you,  as  a  Christian  and 
a  soldier,  to  tell  me  where  we  are  going.  I  am  Captain 
Dantes,  a  loyal  Frenchman,  though  accused  of  treason ; 
tell  me  where  you  are  conducting  me,  and  I  promise  you 
on  my  honor  I  will  submit  to  my  fate." 

The  gendarme  looked  irresolutely  at  his  companion,  who 
returned  for  answer  a  sigh  that  said,  "  I  see  no  great  harm 
in  telling  him  now,"  and  the  gendarme  replied,  — 

"  You  are  a  native  of  Marseilles  and  a  sailor,  and  yet 
you  do  not  know  where  you  are  going  1  " 

"  On  my  honor,  I  have  no  idea." 

"  That  is  impossible." 

"  I  swear  to  you  it  is  true.     Tell  me,  I  entreat." 

*'  But  my  orders." 

"  Your  orders  do  not  forbid  your  telling  me  what  I  must 
know  in  ten  minutes,  in  half  an  hour,  or  an  hour.  Spare 
me  meanwhile  ages  of  uncertainty.  See,  I  ask  it  of  you  as 
if  you  were  my  friend.  I  have  no  wish  to  resist  or  to  es- 
cape ;  besides,  I  am  not  able.     Whither  are  we  going  'i " 

*'  Unless  you  are  blind  or  have  never  been  outside  the 
harbor,  you  must  know." 

"I  do  not." 

*'Look  round  you,  then." 

Dantes  rose  and  looked  forward,  when  he  saw  rise 
witliin  a  hundred  yards  of  him  the  black  and  frowning 
rock  on  which  stands  the  Chateau  d'If.  This  gloomy  for- 
tress, which  has  for  more  than  three  hundred  years  fur- 
nislied  food  for  so   many  wild   legends,  appearing  thus 


THE  CHATEAU   D'IF.  97 

suddenly  to  Dantes  had  upon  him  the  effect  which  a  view 
of  the  scaffold  has  upon  one  condemned  to  death. 

"The  Chateau  d'lf?"  cried  he;  "what  are  we  going 
there  for  1  " 

The  gendarme  smiled. 

"  I  am  not  going  there  to  be  imprisoned,"  said  Dantes; 
"  it  is  only  used  for  political  prisoners.  I  have  committed 
no  crime.  Are  there  any  magistrates  or  judges  at  the 
Chateau  d'lf?" 

"There  are  only,"  said  the  gendarme,  "a  governor,  a 
garrison,  turnkeys,  and  good  thick  walls.  Come,  come, 
do  not  look  so  astonished,  or  you  will  make  me  think  you 
are  laughing  at  me  in  return  for  my  good-nature." 

Dantes  pressed  the  gendarme's  hand  as  though  he  would 
crush  it. 

"You  think,  then,"  said  he,  "that  I  am  conducted  to 
the  chateau  to  be  imprisoned  there  1 " 

"  It  is  probable ;  but  there  is  no  occasion  to  squeeze  so 
bard." 

"  Without  any  formality  ?  " 

"  All  the  formalities  have  been  gone  through." 

"  In  spite  of  M.  de  Villefort's  promises  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know  what  M.  de  Villefort  promised  you," 
said  the  gendarme,  "  but  I  know  we  are  taking  you  to  the 
Chateau  d'lf.  But  what  are  you  doing  ]  Help,  com- 
rades, help  !  " 

By  a  rapid  movement  which  the  gendarme's  practised 
eye  had  perceived,  Dantes  sprang  forward  to  precipitate 
himself  into  the  sea ;  but  four  vigorous  arms  seized  him 
as  his  feet  quitted  the  flooring  of  the  boat.  He  fell  back 
foaming  with  rage. 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  gendarme,  placing  his  knee  on  his 
chest ;  "  this  is  how  you  keep  the  word  of  a  sailor  !  Be- 
lieve soft-spoken  gentlemen  again  !     Hark  ye,  my  friend  ! 

VOL.   I.  —  7 


98  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

I  have  disobeyed  my  first  order,  but  I  will  not  disobey 
the  second;  if  you  move,  I  will  lodge  a  bullet  in  your 
brain."  And  he  levelled  his  carbine  at  Dantes,  who  felt 
the  muzzle  touch  his  head. 

For  a  moment  he  entertained  the  idea  of  making  the 
forbidden  movement,  and  so  ending  the  evils  that  had 
suddenly  overtaken  him ;  but  just  because  the  evil  was 
unexpected,  Dantes  thought  that  it  could  not  be  lasting. 
Then  the  remembrance  of  M.  de  Villefort's  promises 
revived  his  hopes;  and  then  death  on  the  bottom 
of  a  boat  at  the  hands  of  a  gendarme  seemed  to  him 
ugly  and  prosaic.  He  fell  back,  therefore,  upon  the  seat, 
uttering  a  cry  of  rage  and  gnawing  his  hands  with 
fury. 

At  this  moment  a  violent  shock  made  the  bark  tremble. 
One  of  the  sailors  leaped  on  shore,  a  cord  creaked  as  it 
ran  through  a  pulley,  and  Dantes  understood  that  they 
were  at  the  end  of  the  voyage. 

His  guardians,  taking  hold  of  his  arms,  forced  him  to 
rise,  and  dragged  him  towards  the  steps  that  led  to  the 
gate  of  the  fortress,  while  the  exempt  followed,  armed 
with  a  carbine  and  bayonet. 

Dantes  made  no  resistance  ;  he  was  like  a  man  in  a 
dream.  He  saw  soldiers  who  stationed  themselves  on  the 
sides ;  he  was  aware  of  stairs  which  obliged  him  to  lift  his 
feet ;  he  perceived  that  he  passed  under  a  door,  and  that 
the  door  was  closed  behind  him,  but  saw  everything  as 
in  a  mist,  without  distinguishing  anything  clearly.  He 
no  longer  saw  even  the  sea,  —  that  spectacle  so  mournful 
to  the  captive,  who  looks  into  space  with  the  painful  re- 
flection that  he  is  powerless  to  traverse  it. 

They  halted  for  a  minute,  during  which  he  strove  to  col- 
lect his  thoughts.  He  looked  around ;  he  was  in  a  square 
court  surrounded  by  high  walls.     He  heard  the  measured 


THE  CHATEAU   D'IF.  99 

tread  of  sentinels,  and  as  they  passed  before  the  light  he 
saw  the  barrels  of  their  muskets  shiue. 

They  waited  upwards  of  ten  minutes.  Certain  that 
Dantes  could  not  escape,  the  gendarmes  released  him. 
They  seemed  awaiting  orders.     The  orders  arrived. 

"Where  is  the  prisoner"?  "  said  a  voice. 

"  Here,"  replied  the  gendarmes. 

"  Let  him  follow  me ;  I  am  going  to  conduct  him  to 
his  room." 

"  Go  !  "  said  the  gendarmes,  pushing  Dantes. 

The  prisoner  followed  his  conductor,  who  led  him  into 
a  room  almost  underground,  whose  bare  and  reeking  walls 
seemed  as  though  impregnated  with  tears ;  a  lamp  placed 
on  a  stool  illumined  the  apartment  faintly,  and  showed 
Dantes  the  features  of  his  conductor,  an  under-jailer,  iU- 
clothed,  and  of  sullen  appearance. 

"Here  is  your  chamber  for  to-night,"  said  he.  "  It  is 
late,  and  Monsieur  the  Governor  is  asleep.  To-morrow, 
when  he  awakes  and  is  informed  of  the  orders  concern- 
ing you,  he  will  perhaps  change  your  lodging.  In  the 
mean  time  there  is  bread,  water,  and  fresh  straw ;  and 
that  is  all  a  prisoner  can  wish  for.  Good-night."  And 
before  Dantes  could  open  his  mouth,  before  he  had  no- 
ticed where  the  jailer  placed  his  bread  or  the  water,  be- 
fore he  had  glanced  towards  the  corner  where  the  straw 
was,  the  jailer  had  disappeared,  taking  with  him  the 
lamp. 

Dantes  was  alone  in  the  darkness  and  the  silence, 
dumb  and  still  as  those  vaults  whose  icy  atmosphere  he 
felt  upon  his  burning  brow.  With  the  first  dawn  of  day 
the  jailer  returned  with  orders  to  leave  Dantes  where  he 
was.  He  found  the  prisoner  in  the  same  position,  as  if 
fixed  there,  his  eyes  swollen  with  weeping.  He  had 
passed  the  night  standing,  and  without  sleep.     The  jailer 


100  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

advanced  ;  Dantes  appeared  not  to  perceive  him.  He 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder;  Edmond  started. 

"  Have  you  not  slept  1 "  said  the  jailer. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Dantes.     The  jailer  stared. 

"  Are  you  hungry  1 "  continued  he. 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Do  you  wish  for  anything?  " 

"  I  wisli  to  see  the  governor." 

The  jailer  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left  the  chamber. 

Dantes  followed  him  with  his  eyes,  and  stretched  forth 
his  hands  towards  the  open  door;  but  the  door  closed. 
All  his  emotion  then  burst  forth  :  he  cast  himself  on  the 
ground,  weeping  bitterly,  and  asking  himself  what  crimO' 
he  had  committed  that  he  should  be  thus  punished. 

The  day  passed  thus ;  he  scarcely  tasted  food,  but 
walked  round  and  round  the  cell  like  a  wild  beast  in  its 
cage.  One  thought  in  particular  tormented  him ;  namely, 
that  during  his  journey  hither  when,  not  knowing  whither 
they  were  conducting  him,  he  had  remained  so  calm  and 
inactive,  he  might  a  dozen  times  have  plunged  into  the 
sea,  and  thanks  to  his  powers  of  swimming,  for  which  he 
was  famous,  have  gained  the  shore,  concealed  himself  un- 
til the  arrival  of  a  Genoese  or  Spanish  vessel,  escaped  to 
Spain  or  Italy,  where  Mercedes  and  his  father  could  have 
joined  him.  He  had  no  fears  as  to  how  he  should  live ; 
good  seamen  are  welcome  everywhere.  He  spoke  Italian 
like  a  Tuscan,  and  Spanish  like  a  Castilian„  He  would 
then  have  been  happy,  whereas  he  was  now  confined 
in  the  Chateau  d'lf,  "ignorant  of  the  future  destiny 
of  his  father  and  Mercedes ;  and  all  this  because  he  had 
trusted  to  Villefort's  promise.  The  thought  was  mad- 
dening, and  Dantes  threw  himself  furiously  down  on 
his  straw.  The  next  morning  the  jailer  made  his 
appearance. 


THE  CHlTEAU  D'IF.  101 

"  Well,"  said  the  jailer,  "  are  you  more  reasonable  to- 
day 1  "     Dantes  made  no  reply, 

"Come,  take  courage;  do  you  want  anything  in  my 
power  to  do  for  you  1  " 

"  I  wish  to  see  the  governor." 

"  Eh  !  "  said  the  jailer,  impatiently,  "  I  have  already 
told  you  it  is  impossible." 

"Why  sol" 

"  Because  it  is  not  allowed  by  the  rules." 

"  What  is  allowed,  then  ]  " 

"Better  fore,  if  you  pay  for  it;  books,  and  leave  to 
walk  about." 

"I  do  not  want  books,  I  am  satisfied  with  my  food, 
and  I  do  not  care  to  walk  about ;  but  I  wish  to  see  the 
governor." 

"  If  you  worry  me  by  repeating  the  same  thing,  I  will 
not  bring  you  any  more  to  eat." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Edmond,  "if  you  do  not,  I  shall  die 
of  hunger,  —  that  is  all." 

The  tone  in  which  Dantes  uttered  these  words  showed 
the  jailer  that  his  prisoner  was  quite  willing  to  die  ;  and 
therefore,  since  every  prisoner  is  worth  ten  sous  a  day  to 
his  jailer,  he  replied  in  a  more  subdued  tone,  "  What 
you  ask  is  impossible ;  but  if  you  are  very  well-behaved 
you  will  be  allowed  to  walk  about,  and  some  day  you  will 
meet  the  governor ;  and  if  he  chooses  to  reply,  that  is  his 
affair." 

"  But,"  asked  Dantes,  "  how  long  shall  I  have  to 
wait  1 " 

"  Ah  !  a  month  —  six  months  —  a  year." 

"  It  is  too  long  a  time.     I  wish  to  see  him  at  once." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  jailer,  "  do  not  brood  always  over  what 
is  impossible,  or  you  will  be  mad  in  a  fortnight." 

"You  think  sol" 


102  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

*'  Yes,  mad  ;  madness  always  begins  in  that  way.  "We 
have  an  instance  of  it  here.  It  was  by  offering  continually 
a  million  of  livres  to  the  governor  for  his  liberty  that  an 
abbe  became  mad  who  was  in  this  chamber  before  you." 

"  How  long  since  he  left  it]  " 

"  Two  years." 

"  Was  he  liberated  then  ] " 

"  No  ;  he  was  put  in  a  dungeon." 

*'  Listen/'  said  Dantes  :  "  I  am  not  an  abbe,  I  am  not 
mad ;  perhaps  I  shall  be,  but  at  present  unfortunately  I 
am  not.     I  will  make  you  another  proposition." 

"  What  is  that  1 " 

"  I  do  not  offer  you  a  million,  because  I  have  n't  it  to 
give ;  but  I  will  give  you  a  hundred  crowns  if  the  first 
time  you  go  to  Marseilles  you  will  seek  out  a  young  girl 
named  Mercedes,  at  the  Catalans,  and  give  her  two  lines 
from  me." 

"  If  I  took  them,  and  were  detected,  I  should  lose  my 
place,  which  is  worth  two  thousand  livres  a  year  ;  I  should 
be  a  great  fool  to  run  such  a  risk  for  three  hundred." 

"  Well,"  said  Dantes,  "  mark  this  :  if  you  refuse  to 
carry  two  lines  to  Mercedes,  or  at  least  to  tell  her  that  I 
am  here,  I  will  some  day  hide  myself  behind  the  door, 
and  when  you  enter  I  will  dash  out  your  brains  with  this 
stool." 

"Threats!"  cried  the  jailer,  retreating  and  putting 
himself  on  the  defensive ;  "  you  are  certainly  going  mad. 
The  abbe  began  like  you,  and  in  three  days  you  will  want 
a  strait-waistcoat,  like  him ;  but  fortunately  there  are 
dungeons  here."  Dantes  seized  the  stool  and  whirled  it 
round  his  head. 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  jailer,  "  very  good  !  Since  you  will 
have  it  so,  I  will  go  and  notify  the  governor." 

"  That  is  right,"  returned  Dantes,  dropping  the  stool 


THE  CHATEAU  D'IF.  103 

and  sitting  on  it  with  drooping  head  and  haggard  eyes,  as 
if  he  were  indeed  becoming  insane.  The  jailer  went  out, 
and  returned  in  an  instant  with  a  corporal  and  four 
soldiers. 

"  By  the  governor's  orders,"  said  he,  "  conduct  the 
prisoner  to  the  story  beneath." 

*'  To  the  dungeon,  then,"  said  the  corporal. 

"  Yes ;  we  must  put  the  madman  with  the  madmen." 
The  soldiers  seized  Dantes,  who  fell  into  a  sort  of  atony, 
and  went  with  them  without  resistance. 

He  descended  fifteen  steps,  the  door  of  a  dungeon  was 
opened,  and  he  entered,  murmuring,  "  He  is  right ;  the 
mad  should  be  placed  with  the  mad."  The  door  closed, 
and  Dantes  advanced  with  outstretched  hands  until  he 
touched  the  wall ;  he  then  sat  down  in  the  corner  until 
his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  darkness.  The  jailer 
was  right;  Dantes  wanted  but  little  of  being  utterly 
mad. 


104  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE  EVENING  OP  THE  BETROTHAL. 

ViLLEPORT  had,  as  we  have  said,  hastened  back  to  the 
Place  du  Grand  Cours,  and  on  entering  the  house  found 
that  the  guests  whom  he  had  left  at  table  had  passed  into 
the  salon.  Renee,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  corupany,  was 
anxiously  awaiting  him,  and  on  his  entrance  he  was 
greeted  by  a  general  exclamation. 

"  Well,  decapitator,  guardian  of  the  State,  Brutus, 
what  is  the  matter  1 "  said  one. 

"Are  we  threatened  with  a  fresh  Eeign  of  Terror?" 
asked  another. 

"  Has  the  Corsican  ogre  broken  loose  1 "  cried  a  third. 

*'  Madame  the  Marchioness,"  said  Villefort,  approaching 
his  future  mother-in-law,  "  I  request  your  pardon  for  thus 
leaving  you.  Monsieur  the  Marquis,  honor  me  by  a  few 
moments'  private  conversation  !  " 

"  Ah  !  this  affair  is  really  serious,  then  ? "  asked  the 
marquis,  remarking  the  cloud  on  Villefort's  brow. 

"  So  serious  that  I  must  take  leave  of  you  for  a  few 
days;  so,"  added  he,  turning  to  Renee,  "judge  for  your- 
self if  it  be  not  important." 

"  You  are  going  to  leave  us  1 "  cried  Renee,  unable  to 
hide  her  emotion. 

"  Alas  !  "  returned  Villefort,  "  I  must !  " 

"  Where,  then,  are  you  going]  "  asked  the  marchioness. 

"That,  Madame,  is  the  secret  of  justice;  but  if  you 


THE  EVENING  OF  THE  BETROTHAL.      105 

have  any  commissions  for  Paris,  a  friend  of  mine  is  going 
there  to-night."     The  guests  looked  at  each  other. 

"  You  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone  1  "  said  the  marquis. 

"Yes,  let  us  go  into  your  cabinet."  The  marquis  took 
his  arm  and  left  the  salon. 

"  Well !  "  asked  he,  as  soon  as  they  were  in  his  closet, 
"  tell  me,  what  is  it  1 " 

"  An  affair  of  the  greatest  importance,  that  demands 
my  immediate  presence  in  Paris.  !Now,  excuse  the  in- 
discretion. Marquis,  but  have  you  any  property  in  state 
securities  1  " 

"  All  my  fortune  is  in  the  Funds,  —  seven  or  eight 
hundred  thousand  livres." 

"  Then  sell  out ;  sell  out,  Marquis,  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"  Eh  !  how  can  I  seU  out  here  1 " 

"  You  have  a  broker,  have  you  not  1 " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  give  me  a  letter  to  him,  and  tell  him  to  sell  out 
without  an  instant's  delay ;  perhaps  even  now  I  shall 
arrive  too  late." 

"  The  devil ! "  said  the  marquis,  "  let  us  lose  no  time, 
then !  " 

And,  sitting  down,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  broker, 
ordering  him  to  sell  out  at  any  price. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Villefort,  placing  the  letter  in  his 
pocket-book,  "write  another!" 

"  To  whom  i " 

"  To  the  king." 

"  I  dare  not  write  to  his  Majesty." 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  write  to  his  Majesty ;  but  ask 
M.  de  Salvieux  to  do  so.  I  want  a  letter  that  will  enable 
me  to  reach  the  king's  presence  without  all  the  formalities 
of  demanding  an  audience ;  that  would  occasion  a  loss  of 
precious  time." 


106  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Address  yourself  to  the  keeper  of  the  seals ;  he  has 
the  right  of  entry,  and  can  procure  you  audience." 

"  Doubtless ;  but  there  is  no  occasion  to  divide  the 
merit  of  ray  discovery  vpith  him.  The  keeper  would  leave 
me  in  the  background,  and  take  all  the  honor  to  himself. 
I  tell  you,  Marquis,  my  career  is  assured  if  I  only  reach 
the  Tuileries  the  first,  for  I  shall  have  rendered  the  king 
a  service  which  he  cannot  forget." 

"  In  that  case  make  your  preparations ;  I  will  call 
Salvieux  and  have  him  write  the  letter  you  require." 

"  Be  as  quick  as  possible,  I  must  be  en  route  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  Make  your  carriage  stop  at  the  door." 

"  You  will  present  my  excuses  to  the  marchioness  and 
Mademoiselle  Renee,  whom  I  leave  on  such  a  day  with 
great  regret." 

"  They  are  both  in  my  room  ;  you  can  say  all  this  for 
yourself." 

"  A  thousand  thanks  ;  busy  yourself  with  the  letter." 

The  marquis  rang,  a  servant  entered. 

"  Inform  the  Comte  de  Salvieux  I  am  waiting  for  him." 

"  Now,  then,  go  ! "  said  the  marquis. 

"  Yes,  but  I  shall  return  immediately." 

Villefort  hastily  quitted  the  apartment,  but  reflecting 
that  the  sight  of  the  deputy  procureur  walking  precipi- 
tately would  be  enough  to  throw  the  whole  city  into 
confusion,  he  resumed  his  ordinary  pace,  which  was 
altogether  magisterial.  At  his  door  he  perceived  a  figure 
in  the  shadow  that  seemed  to  wait  for  him.  It  was 
Mercedes,  who  hearing  no  news  of  her  lover,  had  come 
herself  to  learn  the  cause  of  his  arrest. 

As  Villefort  drew  near,  she  advanced  and  stood  before 
him.  Dantes  had  spoken  of  his  bride,  and  Villefort  in- 
stantly recognized   her.      Her  beauty  and   high   bearing 


THE  EVENING  OF  THE  BETROTHAL.      107 

surprised  him,  and  when  she  inquired  what  had  become 
of  her  lover,  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  the  judge,  and 
he  the  accused. 

"  The  young  man  you  speak  of,"  said  Villefort,  abruptly, 
"  is  a  great  criminal,  and  I  can  do  nothing  for  him, 
Mademoiselle."  Mercedes  burst  into  tears,  and  as  Ville- 
fort strove  to  pass  her,  again  addressed  him. 

"  But  at  least  tell  me  where  he  is,  that  I  may  learn  if 
he  is  alive  or  dead,"  said  she. 

*'  I  do  not  know  ;  he  is  no  longer  in  my  hands,"  replied 
Villefort. 

And  desirous  of  putting  an  end  to  the  interview,  he 
pushed  by  her  and  closed  the  door,  as  if  to  exclude  the 
pain  he  felt.  But  remorse  is  not  thus  banished  ;  like  the 
fatal  shaft  of  which  Virgil  speaks,  the  wounded  man 
carried  it  with  him.  He  entered  and  closed  the  door, 
but  having  reached  his  salon,  his  strength  gave  way ;  he 
gave  vent  to  a  sigh  which  was  like  a  sob,  and  sank  into 
a  chair. 

Then,  at  the  bottom  of  that  diseased  heart  was  produced 
the  first  germ  of  a  mortal  ulcer.  The  man  he  sacrificed 
to  his  ambition,  that  innocent  victim  he  made  pay  the 
penalty  of  his  father's  faults,  appeared  to  him  pale  and 
threatening,  leading  his  affianced  bride  by  the  hand,  pale 
like  himself,  and  bringing  with  him  remorse,  —  not  such 
as  the  ancients  figured,  furious  and  terrible,  but  that  slow 
and  consuming  agony  whose  pangs  increase  until  the  end 
of  life.  Then  he  had  a  moment's  hesitation.  He  had 
frequently  called  for  capital  punishment  on  criminals, 
and  owing  to  his  irresistible  eloquence  they  had  been 
condemned ;  and  yet  the  slightest  shadow  of  remorse  had 
never  clouded  Villefort's  brow,  because  they  were  guilty, 
—  at  least,  he  believed  so.  But  now  the  affair  was  very 
sdiff'erent.     He  had  doomed  an  innocent  man  to  the  hor- 


108  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

rors  of  perpetual  imprisonment,  —  an  innocent  man  who 
was  on  the  threshold  of  happiness ;  in  this  case  he  was 
not  the  judge,  but  the  executioner. 

As  he  thus  reflected,  he  felt  the  sensation  we  have  de- 
scribed, and  which  had  hitherto  been  unknown  to  him, 
rise  in  his  bosom,  and  it  filled  him  with  vague  apprehen- 
sions. It  is  thus  that  a  wounded  man  trembles  instinc- 
tively at  the  approach  of  the  finger  to  his  wound  until  it 
be  healed.  But  Villefort's  was  one  of  those  that  never 
close,  or  if  they  do,  only  close  to  reopen  more  agonizing 
than  ever.  If  at  this  moment  the  sweet  voice  of  Renee 
had  sounded  in  his  ears  pleading  for  mercy,  or  the  fair 
Mercedes  had  entered  and  said,  "  In  the  name  of  God,  I 
conjure  you  to  restore  me  my  affianced  husband ! "  his 
cold  and  trembling  hands  would  have  signed  his  release, 
at  the  risk  of  whatever  consequences  might  ensue.  But 
no  voice  broke  the  stillness  of  the  chamber,  and  the  door 
was  opened  only  by  Villefort's  valet,  who  came  to  teU 
him  the  travelling-carriage  was  in  readiness. 

Villefort  rose,  or  rather  sprang  from  his  chair  like  a 
man  who  has  triumphed  in  an  internal  struggle,  hastily 
opened  one  of  the  drawers  of  his  secretaire,  emptied  all 
the  gold  it  contained  into  his  pocket,  stood  motionless  an 
instant,  his  hand  pressed  to  his  head,  muttered  a  few 
inarticulate  sounds,  and  then  perceiving  that  his  servant 
had  placed  his  cloak  on  his  shoulders,  he  sprang  into  the 
carriage,  ordering  the  postilions  to  go  to  Rue  du  Grand 
Cours,  to  the  house  of  M.  de  Saint-Meran. 

So  the  unhappy  Dantes  was  condemned. 

As  the  marquis  had  promised,  Villefort  found  the  mar- 
chioness and  Renee  in  the  cabinet.  He  started  when  he 
saw  Renee,  for  he  fancied  she  was  again  about  to  plead 
for  Dantes.  Alas  !  she  was  only  thinking  of  ViUefort'a 
departure. 


THE  EVENING  OF  THE  BETROTHAL.  109 

She  loved  Villefort,  and  he  was  leaving  her  at  the 
moment  he  was  about  to  become  her  husband.  Villefort 
knew  not  when  he  should  return,  and  Renee,  far  from 
pleading  for  Dantes,  hated  the  man  whose  crime  separated 
her  from  her  lover. 

What,  then,  had  Mercedes  to  say  1  She  had  met  Fer- 
nand  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Loge ;  she  had  re- 
turned to  the  Catalans,  and  had  despairingly  cast  herself 
on  her  couch.  Fernand,  kneeling  by  her  side,  took  her 
hand,  and  covered  it  with  kisses  that  Mercedes  did  not 
even  feel.  She  passed  the  night  thus.  The  oil  in  the 
lamp  burned  out,  but  she  did  not  notice  the  darkness, 
and  when  the  day  returned  she  was  not  aware  of  its 
light.  Grief  had  made  her  blind  to  all  but  one  object ; 
that  was  Edmond. 

"  Ah,  you  are  there  ! "  said  she,  at  length. 

"I  have  not  quitted  you  since  yesterday,"  returned 
Fernand,  sorrowfully. 

M.  Morrel  had  not  given  up  the'battle.  He  had  learned 
that  Dantes  had  been  conducted  to  prison,  and  he  had 
gone  to  all  his  friends,  and  to  the  influential  persons  of 
the  city  ;  but  the  report  was  already  in  circulation  that 
Dantes  was  arrested  as  a  Bonapartist  agent,  and  as  the 
most  sanguine  looked  upon  any  attempt  of  Napoleon  to 
remount  the  throne  as  madness,  he  met  with  nothing  but 
refusal,  and  had  returned  home  in  despair. 

Caderousse  also  was  restless  and  uneasy,  but  instead  of 
seeking  to  aid  Dantes,  he  had  shut  himself  up  with  two 
bottles  of  wine,  in  the  hope  of  drowning  reflection.  But 
he  did  not  succeed,  and  became  too  intoxicated  to  fetch 
any  more  wine,  and  yet  not  so  intoxicated  as  to  forget 
what  had  happened. 

Danglars  alone  was  neither  troubled  nor  uneasy  ;  he 
was  even  joyous,  — he  had  got  rid  of  an  enemy  and  pre- 


110  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

served  his  situation  on  board  the  "  Pharaon."  Danglars 
was  one  of  those  men  of  calculation  who  are  born  with  a 
pen  behind  the  ear,  and  an  inkstand  in  place  of  a  heart. 
Everything  with  him  was  multiplication  or  subtraction ; 
and  he  estimated  the  life  of  a  man  as  less  precious  than  a 
figure,  when  that  figure  could  increase,  and  that  life  would 
diminish,  the  total  of  the  amount. 

Villefort,  after  having  received  M.  de  Salvieux's  letter, 
embraced  Renee,  kissed  the  marchioness's  hand,  and 
shaken  hands  with  the  marquis,  started  for  Paris. 

The  father  of  Dantes  was  dying  with  grief  and  anxiety. 


THE  SMALL  CABINET  OF  THE  TUILERIES.        Ill 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   SMALL   CABINET   OF   THE   TUILERIES. 

Wb  will  leave  Villefort  on  the  road  to  Paris,  travelling 
with  all  speed,  will  cross  two  or  three  apartments,  and 
enter  the  small  cabinet  of  the  Tuileries  with  the  arched 
window,  so  well  known  as  having  been  the  favorite  cabi- 
net of  Napoleon  and  of  Louis  XVIII.,  —  as  it  is  also  to-day 
that  of  Louis  Philippe. 

There,  in  this  cabinet,  seated  before  a  walnut-tree  table 
he  had  brought  with  him  from  Hartwell,  and  to  which, 
through  one  of  those  fancies  not  uncommon  to  great  people, 
he  was  particularly  attached,  the  king,  Louis  XVIII.,  was 
carelessly  listening  to  a  man  of  fifty  or  fifty-two  years  of 
age,  with  gray  hairs,  aristocratic  bearing,  and  exceedingly 
gentlemanly  attire,  while  he  was  making  a  note  in  a 
volume  of  Horace,  Gryphius's  edition,  Avhich  was  much 
indebted  to  the  sagacious  philological  observations  of  his 
Majesty. 

"  You  say,  sir  —  "  said  the  king. 

"  That  I  am  exceedingly  disquieted,  Sire." 

"  Really  1  Have  you  had  a  dream  of  the  seven  fat  kine 
and  seven  lean  kine  1 " 

"  No,  Sire,  for  that  would  only  betoken  for  us  seven 
years  of  plenty  and  seven  years  of  scarcity  ;  and  with  a 
king  as  full  of  foresight  as  your  Majesty,  scarcity  is  not 
a  thing  to  be  feared." 

"  Then  of  what  other  scourge  are  you  afraid,  my  dear 
Blacas 1 " 


112  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Sire,  I  have  every  reason  to  "believe  that  a  storm  is 
brewing  in  the  South." 

"  Well,  my  dear  duke,"  replied  Louis  XVIIL,  "  I  think 
you  are  wrongly  informed,  and  I  know  positively  that 
on  the  contrary  it  is  very  fine  weather  in  that  direction." 
Man  of  ability  as  he  was,  Louis  XVIIL  liked  a  pleasant 
jest. 

"  Sire,"  continued  M.  de  Blacas,  "  if  it  only  he  to  re- 
assure a  faithful  servant,  will  your  Majesty  send  into 
Languedoc,  Provence,  and  Dauphine,  trusty  men  who 
will  bring  you  back  a  faithful  report  as  to  the  feeling  in 
these  three  provinces  1 " 

"  Canimus  surdis,^'  replied  the  king,  continuing  the 
annotations  in  his  Horace. 

*'  Sire,"  replied  the  courtier,  laughing,  in  order  that  he 
might  seem  to  comprehend  the  quotation,  "  your  Majesty 
may  be  perfectly  right  in  relying  on  the  good  feeling  of 
France,  but  I  fear  I  am  not  altogether  wrong  in  dreading 
some  desperate  attempt." 

«  By  whom  ?  " 

"  By  Bonaparte,  or  at  least  his  party." 

"  My  dear  Blacas,"  said  the  king,  "  you  with  your 
alarms  prevent  me  from  working." 

"  And  you.  Sire,  with  your  security  prevent  me  from 
sleeping." 

**  Wait,  my  dear  sir,  wait  a  moment,  —  for  I  have  such 
a  delightful  note  on  the  Pastor  quum  traheret,  —  wait,  and 
I  will  listen  to  you  afterwards." 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  during  which  Louis  XVIIL 
wrote  in  a  hand  as  small  as  possible  another  note  on  the 
margin  of  his  Horace  ;  and  then,  looking  at  the  duke  with 
the  self-satisfied  air  of  a  man  who  thinks  he  has  an  idea  of 
his  own  while  he  is  but  commenting  upon  the  idea  of 
another,  he  said,  — • 


THE  SMALL  CABINET  OF  THE  TUILERIES.        113 

"  Go  on,  my  dear  duke,  go  on  ;  I  listen." 

"  Sire,"  said  Blacas,  who  had  had  for  a  moment  the 
hope  of  confiscating  Villefort  to  his  own  profit,  "  I  am 
compelled  to  tell  you  that  these  are  not  mere  rumors  desti- 
tute of  foundation  which  thus  disquiet  me ;  but  a  reflective 
man  deserving  all  my  confidence,  and  charged  by  me  to 
watch  over  the  South  [the  duke  hesitated  as  he  pronounced 
these  words],  has  arrived  in  haste  to  tell  me  a  great  peril 
threatens  the  king,  and  then  I  hasten  to  you.  Sire." 

*'  Mala  ducis  avi  domum,^^  continued  Louis  XVIII.,  still 
annotating. 

"Does  your  Majesty  wish  me  not  to  continue  this 
subject  1  " 

"  By  no  means,  dear  duke;  but  reach  out  your  hand." 

"Which?" 

"  Whichever  you  please ;  there,  to  the  left." 

"Here,  Sire]" 

"  I  teU  you  to  the  left,  and  you  seek  on  the  right.  I 
mean  on  my  left,  —  yes,  there  ;  you  will  find  yesterday's 
report  of  the  minister  of  police.  But  here  is  M.  Dandre 
himself ;  "  and  M.  Dandre,  announced  by  the  chamberlain- 
in-waiting,  entered. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Louis  XVIIL,  with  an  imperceptible 
smile,  —  "  come  in,  Baron,  and  tell  the  duke  all  you  know, 
—  the  latest  news  of  M.  de  Bonaparte.  Do  not  conceal  any- 
thing, however  serious ;  let  us  see,  the  island  of  Elba  is 
a  volcano,  and  we  may  expect  to  have  issuing  thence 
flaming  and  bristling  war, — hella,  horrida  hella."  M. 
Dandre  leaned  very  respectfully  on  the  back  of  a  chair 
with  his  two  hands,  and  said,  — 

"  Has  your  Majesty  perused  yesterday's  report  1 " 

**  Yes,  yes ;  but  tell  the  duke  himself,  who  cannot  find 
it,  what  the  report  contains.  Give  him  the  particulars  of 
what  the  usurper  is  doing  in  his  islet." 


114  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  baron  to  the  duke,  "  all  the  ser- 
vants of  his  Majesty  should  be  gratified  by  the  latest 
intelligence  which  we  have  from  the  island  of  Elba. 
Bonaparte,"  M.  Dandre  looked  at  Louis  XVIII.,  who, 
employed  in  writing  a  note,  did  not  even  raise  his  head,  — 
"  Bonaparte,"  continued  the  baron,  *'  is  mortally  wearied, 
and  passes  whole  days  in  watching  his  miners  at  work  at 
Porto  Longone." 

"And  scratches  himself  for  amusement,"  added  the  king. 

"  Scratches  himself  ] "  inquired  the  duke,  "  what  does 
your  Majesty  mean  1  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  dear  duke.  Do  you  forget  that  this 
great  man,  this  hero,  this  demigod,  is  attacked  with  a  mal- 
ady of  the  skin  which  worries  him  to  death,  prtirigo  ?  " 

"  And  moreover,  Monsieur  the  Duke,"  continued  the 
minister  of  police,  "  we  are  almost  assured  that  in  a  very 
short  time  the  usurper  will  be  insane." 

"  Insane  1 " 

"  Insane  to  a  degree  ;  his  head  becomes  weaker.  Some- 
times he  weeps  bitterly,  sometimes  laughs  boisterously ; 
at  other  times  he  passes  hours  on  the  sea-shore,  flinging 
stones  in  the  water,  and  when  the  flint  makes  '  duck-and- 
drake '  five  or  six  times,  he  appears  as  delighted  as  if  he 
had  gained  another  Marengo  or  Austerlitz.  Now,  you 
must  agree  these  are  indubitable  symptoms  of  weakness." 

"  Or  of  wisdom.  Monsieur  the  Baron,  —  or  of  wisdom," 
said  Louis  XVIII.,  laughing.  "The  greatest  captains  of 
antiquity  amused  themselves  with  casting  pebbles  into  the 
ocean ;  see  Plutarch's  Life  of  Scipio  Africanus." 

M.  de  Blacas  pondered  deeply  on  this  blind  repose  of 
monarch  and  minister.  Villefort,  who  did  not  choose  to 
reveal  the  whole  secret,  lest  another  should  reap  all  the 
benefit  of  the  disclosure,  had  yet  communicated  enough  to 
cause  him  the  greatest  uneasiness. 


THE  SMALL  CABINET  OF   THE  TUILERIES.         115 

"  Well,  well,  Dandre,"  said  Louis  XVIII.,  "  Blacas  is  not 
yet  convinced  ;  proceed,  therefore,  to  the  usurper's  con- 
version."    The  minister  of  police  bowed. 

"  The  usurper's  conversion  ] "  murmured  the  duke, 
looking  at  the  king  and  Dandre,  who  spoke  alternately, 
like  Virgil's  shepherds.     "  The  usurper  converted  !  " 

"  Decidedly,  my  dear  duke." 

"  In  what  way  converted  1  " 

**  To  good  principles.     Explain  it,  Baron." 

"  Why,  this  it  is,  Monsieur  the  Duke,"  said  the  minis- 
ter, with  the  gravest  air  in  the  world  :  "  Napoleon  lately 
had  a  review,  and  as  two  or  three  of  his  old  veterans  showed 
a  desire  to  return  to  France,  he  gave  them  their  dismissal, 
and  exhorted  them  to  '  serve  their  good  king.'  These  were 
his  own  words.  Monsieur  the  Duke,  I  am  certain  of  that." 

"  Well,  Blacas,  what  do  you  think  of  it  1 "  inquired  the 
king  triumphantly,  and  neglecting  for  a  moment  the  volu- 
minous scholiast  before  him. 

"  I  say.  Sire,  that  Monsieur  the  Minister  of  Police  is 
greatly  deceived,  or  I  am  ;  and  as  it  is  impossible  it  can 
be  the  minister  of  police,  since  he  has  the  guardianship 
of  the  safety  and  honor  of  your  Majesty,  it  is  probable 
I  am  in  error.  However,  Sire,  if  I  might  advise,  your 
Majesty  will  interrogate  the  person  of  whom  I  spoke 
to  you,  and  I  will  urge  your  Majesty  to  do  him  this 
honor." 

"  Most  willingly,  Duke ;  under  your  auspices  I  will 
receive  any  person  you  please,  but  with  arms  in  hand. 
Monsieur  the  Minister,  have  you  any  report  more  recent 
than  this  1  This  is  dated  February  20,  and  we  have 
reached  the  3d  of  March." 

"  No,  Sire,  but  I  am  hourly  expecting  one  ;  it  may  have 
arrived  since  I  left  my  office  this  morning." 

"  Go  thither,  and  if  there  be  none  —  well,  well,"  cou- 


116  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

tinued  Louis  XVIII.,  "  make  one ;  that  is  the  usual  way, 
is  it  not]  "  and  the  king  laughed  facetiously. 

"  Oh,  Sire,"  replied  the  minister,  "  we  have  no  occasion 
to  invent  any ;  every  day  our  desks  are  loaded  with  most 
circumstantial  denunciations  coming  from  crowds  of  indi- 
viduals who  hope  for  some  return  for  services  which  they 
do  not  render,  but  would  like  to.  They  trust  to  fortune, 
and  hope  that  some  unexpected  event  will  give  a  kind  of 
reality  to  their  predictions." 

"Well,  sir,  go,"  said  Louis  XVIIL,  "and  remember 
that  I  am  waiting  for  you." 

"  I  will  but  go  and  return.  Sire  ;  I  shall  be  back  in  ten 
minutes." 

"  And  I,  Sire,"  said  M.  de  Blacas,  "will  go  and  find  my 
messenger." 

"  Wait,  sir,  wait,"  said  Louis  XVIIL  "  Really,  Blacas, 
I  must  change  your  armorial  bearings  ;  I  will  give  you  an 
eagle  with  outstretched  wings,  holding  in  its  claws  a  prey 
which  tries  in  vain  to  escape,  and  bearing  this  device,  — 
Tenax" 

"  Sire,  I  listen,"  said  M.  de  Blacas,  biting  his  nails 
with  impatience. 

"  I  wish  to  consult  you  on  this  passage,  '  Molli  fugiens 
anhelitu  ; '  you  know  it  refers  to  a  stag  flying  from  a  wolf. 
Are  you  not  a  sportsman  and  a  great  wolf-hunter  ]  Well, 
then,  what  do  you  think  of  the  molli  anhelitu  ?  " 

"Admirable,  Sire;  but  my  messenger  is  like  the  stag 
you  refer  to,  for  he  has  posted  two  hundred  and  twenty 
leagues  in  little  more  than  three  days." 

"  Which  is  undergoing  great  fatigue  and  anxiety,  my 
dear  duke,  when  we  have  a  telegraph  which  takes  only 
three  or  four  hours,  and  that  without  putting  it  in  the 
least  in  the  world  out  of  breath." 

"Ah,  Sire,  you  recompense  but  badly  this  poor  young 


THE  SMALL  CABINET  OF  THE  TUILERIES.         117 

man,  who  has  come  so  far,  and  with  so  much  ardor,  to 
give  your  Majesty  useful  information.  If  only  for  the 
sake  of  M.  de  Salvieux,  who  recommends  him  to  me,  I 
entreat  your  Majesty  to  receive  him  graciously." 

"M.  de  Salvieux,  my  brother's  chamberlain?" 

"  Yes,  Sire." 

"  He  is  at  Marseilles." 

"  And  writes  me  thence." 

"  Does  he  speak  to  you  of  this  conspiracy  1 "' 

**  No ;  but  strongly  recommends  M.  de  Villefort,  and 
begs  me  to  present  him  to  your  Majesty." 

"  M.  de  Villefort !  "  cried  the  king,  "  is  the  messenger's 
name  M.  de  Villefort  1  " 

"  Yes,  Sire." 

"  And  he  comes  from  Marseilles  1 " 

"In  person." 

"Why  did  you  not  mention  his  name  at  once?"  re« 
plied  the  king,  betraying  some  uneasiness. 

"  Sire,  I  thought  his  name  was  unknown  to  your 
Majesty." 

"  No,  no,  Blacas ;  he  is  a  man  of  strong  and  elevated 
understanding,  ambitious  too,  and,  pardieu !  you  know 
his  father's  name." 

"His  father?" 

"Yes,  Noirtier." 

"  Noirtier  the  Girondin  ?    Noirtier  the  senator  1 " 

"He  himself." 

"And  your  Majesty  has  employed  the  son  of  such  a 
man  ? " 

"Blacas,  my  friend,  you  have  but  limited  comprehen- 
sion. I  told  you  Villefort  was  ambitious  ;  to  win  success 
Villefort  would  sacrifice  everything,  even  his  father." 

"  Then,  Sire,  may  I  present  him  ? " 

"  This  instant,  Duke !     Where  is  he  1 " 


118  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Waiting  below,  in  my  carriage." 

"  Go  for  him  at  once." 

''  I  will  do  so." 

The  duke  left  the  royal  presence  with  the  speed  of  a 
young  man ;  his  really  sincere  royalism  made  him  youth- 
ful again.  Louis  XVIII.  remained  alone,  and  turning 
his  eyes  on  his  half-opened  Horace,  muttered,  *' Justum  et 
tenacemn  propositi  viruviV 

M.  do  Blacas  returned  with  the  same  rapidity  he  had 
descended,  but  in  the  ante-chamber  he  was  forced  to 
appeal  to  the  king's  authority.  Villefort's  dusty  garb, 
his  costume,  which  was  not  of  courtly  cut,  excited  the 
susceptibility  of  M.  de  Breze,  who  was  all  astonishment 
at  finding  that  this  young  man  had  the  pretension  to 
enter  before  the  king  in  such  attire.  The  duke,  however, 
removed  all  difficulties  with  a  word,  —  his  Majesty's  order; 
and  in  spite  of  the  observations  which  the  master  of  the 
ceremonies  made  for  the  honor  of  his  office  and  principles, 
Villefort  was  introduced. 

The  king  was  seated  in  the  same  place  where  the  duke 
had  left  him.  On  opening  the  door,  Villefort  found  him- 
self facing  him,  and  the  young  magistrate's  first  impulse 
was  to  pause. 

"  Come  in,  M.  de  Villefort,"  said  the  king,  "  come  in." 
Villefort  bowed,  and  advancing  a  few  steps,  waited  until 
the  king  should  interrogate  him. 

"M.  de  Villefort,"  said  Louis  XVIIL,  "the  Due  de 
Blacas  assures  me  you  have  some  important  information 
to  communicate." 

"Sire,  the  duke  is  right;  and  I  believe  your  Majesty 
will  recognize  its  importance." 

"In  the  first  place,  and  before  everything  else,  sir,  is 
the  evil  as  great  in  your  opinion  as  they  wish  to  make  me 
believe  ? " 


THE  SMALL  CABINET  OF  THE  TUILERIES.         119 

"  Sire,  I  believe  the  evil  to  be  great,  but  I  hope,  thanks 
to  the  speed  I  have  used,  that  it  is  not  irreparable." 

"  Speak  as  fully  as  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  king,  who 
began  to  give  way  to  the  emotion  which  had  showed  it- 
self in  Blacas's  face  and  affected  ViUefort's  voice.  "  Speak, 
sir,  and  pray  begin  at  the  beginning ;  I  like  order  in 
everything." 

"  Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "  I  will  render  a  faithful  report 
to  your  Majesty,  but  I  must  entreat  your  forgiveness  if 
my  anxiety  creates  some  obscurity  in  my  language."  A 
glance  at  the  king  after  this  discreet  and  subtle  exordium 
assured  Villefort  of  the  benignity  of  his  august  auditor,  and 
he  continued,  — 

"  Sire,  I  have  come  as  rapidly  to  Paris  as  possible,  to 
inform  your  Majesty  that  I  haA'^e  discovered  in  the  exer- 
cise of  my  duties,  not  a  commonplace  and  insignificant 
plot,  such  as  is  every  day  got  up  in  the  lower  ranks  of  the 
people  and  in  the  army,  but  an  actual  conspiracy,  —  a 
storm  which  menaces  even  the  throne  of  your  Majesty. 
Sire,  the  usurper  is  arming  three  ships  ;  he  meditates  some 
project,  which,  however  mad,  may  yet  be  terrible.  At 
this  moment  he  will  have  left  Elba,  to  go  —  whither  1  I 
know  not,  but  assuredly  to  attempt  a  landing  either  at 
Naples,  or  on  the  coast  of  Tuscany,  or  perhaps  on  the 
shore  of  France.  Your  Majesty  is  well  aware  that  the 
sovereign  of  the  Isle  of  Elba  has  maintained  his  relations 
with  Italy  and  France  1 " 

"  I  am,  Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  much  agitated;  "and 
recently  we  have  had  information  of  Bonapartist  reunions 
in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques.  But  proceed,  I  beg  of  you. 
How  did  you  obtain  these  details  1 " 

"  Sire,  they  are  the  results  of  an  examination  which  I 
have  made  of  a  man  of  Marseilles,  whom  I  have  watched 
for  some  time,  and  arrested  on  the  day  of  my  departure. 


120  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

This  person,  a  sailor  of  turbulent  character,  and  whom  I 
suspected  of  Bonapartism,  has  been  secretly  to  the  Isle  of 
Elba.  There  he  saw  the  grand-marshal,  who  charged  him 
with  a  verbal  mission  to  a  Bonapartist  in  Paris,  whose 
name  I  could  not  extract  from  him ;  but  this  mission  was 
to  prepare  men's  minds  for  a  return  (it  is  the  man  who 
says  this,  Sire),  —  a  return  which  will  soon  occur." 

"  And  where  is  this  man  1 " 

"  In  prison,  Sire." 

"  And  the  matter  seems  serious  to  you  ?" 

"  So  serious,  Sire,  that  when  this  event  surprised  me 
in  the  midst  of  a  family  festival,  on  the  very  day  of  my 
betrothal,  I  left  my  bride  and  friends,  postponing  every- 
thing that  I  might  hasten  to  lay  at  your  Majesty's  feet 
the  fears  which  impressed  me,  and  the  assurance  of  my 
devotion." 

"  True,"  said  Louis  XVIII, ;  "  was  there  not  a  mar- 
riage engagement  between  you  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Saint-Meran  1 " 

*'  Daughter  of  one  of  your  Majesty's  most  faithful 
servants." 

"Yes,  yes  ;  but  let  us  talk  of  this  plot,  M.  de  Villefort." 

"  Sire,  I  fear  it  is  more  than  a  plot ;  I  fear  it  is  a 
conspiracy." 

*'  A  conspiracy  in  these  times,"  said  Louis  XVIII., 
smiling,  "  is  a  thing  very  easy  to  meditate,  but  more  diffi- 
cult to  conduct  to  success,  inasmuch  as,  re-established  so 
recently  on  the  throne  of  our  ancestors,  we  have  our  eyes 
open  at  once  upon  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future. 
For  the  last  ten  months  my  ministers  have  redoubled 
their  vigilant  watch  of  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  al- 
though it  is  well  guarded.  If  Bonaparte  landed  at  Naples, 
the  whole  coalition  would  be  on  foot  before  he  could 
even  reach  Piombino ;  if  he  land  in  Tuscany,  he  will  be 


THE  SMALL  CABINET  OF  THE  TUILERIES.        121 

in  an  unfriendly  territory ;  if  he  land  in  France,  it  must 
be  with  a  handful  of  men,  and  the  result  of  that  is  easily 
foretold,  execrated  as  he  is  by  the  population.  Take 
courage,  sir;  but  at  the  same  time  rely  on  our  royal 
gratitude." 

"  Ah,  here  is  M.  Dandr^  !  "  cried  Blacas.  At  this  in- 
stant the  minister  of  police  appeared  at  the  door,  pale, 
trembling,  and  as  if  ready  to  faint.  Villefort  was  about 
to  retire,  but  M.  de  Blacas,  taking  his  hand,  restrained 
him. 


122  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   OGRE   OP   CORSICA. 

At  the  sight  of  this  agitation  Louis  XVIIL  violently 
pushed  away  the  table  at  which  he  was  writing. 

"  What  ails  you,  Monsieur  the  Baron  ? "  he  exclaimed. 
"  You  appear  quite  aghast.  This  trouble,  this  hesitation, — 
have  they  anything  to  do  with  what  M.  de  Blacas  has  told 
me,  and  M.  de  Villefort  has  just  confirmed  ? " 

M.  de  Blacas  moved  suddenly  towards  the  baron,  but 
the  fright  of  the  courtier  dominated  the  triumph  of  the 
statesman ;  and  besides,  as  matters  were,  it  was  much 
more  to  his  advantage  that  the  prefect  of  police  should  tri- 
umph over  him  than  that  he  should  humiliate  the  prefect. 

"■  Sire  —  "  stammered  the  baron. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Louis  XVIIL  The  minis- 
ter of  police,  giving  way  to  an  impulse  of  despair,  was 
about  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Louis  XVIIL,  who 
retreated  a  step  and  frowned, 

"  Will  you  speak  1 "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  Sire,  what  a  dreadful  misfortune  !  I  am  indeed 
to  be  pitied.     I  can  never  forgive  myself  !  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Louis  XVIIL,  "  I  command  you  to 
speak  ! " 

"  Well,  Sire,  the  usurper  left  Elba  on  the  26th  of  Feb- 
ruary, and  landed  on  the  1st  of  March." 

*'  And  where,  —  in  Italy  ? "  asked  the  king,  eagerly. 

"  In  France,  Sire ;  at  a  small  port,  near  Antibes,  in  the 
Gulf  of  Juan." 


THE  OGRE  OF  CORSICA.  123 

"The  usurper  landed  in  France  near  Antibes,  in  the 
Gulf  of  Juan,  two  hundred  and  fifty  leagues  from  Paris,  on 
the  1st  of  March,  and  you  acquired  this  information  only 
to-day,  the  4th  of  March  !  Well,  sir,  what  you  tell  me  is 
impossible.  You  must  have  received  a  false  report,  or 
you  have  gone  mad." 

"  Alas,  Sire,  it  is  but  too  true  ! " 

Louis  made  a  gesture  of  indescribable  anger  and  alarm, 
and  then  drew  himself  up  as  if  this  sudden  blow  had 
struck  him  at  the  same  moment  in  heart  and  countenance. 

"  In  France  ! "  he  cried,  "  the  usurper  in  France  !  Then 
they  did  not  watch  over  this  man.  Who  knows  1  they 
were  perhaps  in  league  with  him  !  " 

"  Oh,  Sire  ! "  exclaimed  the  Due  de  Blacas,  ''  IM.  Dan- 
dr4  is  not  a  man  to  be  accused  of  treason  !  Sire,  we  have 
all  been  blind,  and  the  minister  of  police  has  shared  the 
general  blindness, — that  is  all." 

"  But  — "  said  Villefort,  and  then  suddenly  checked 
himself.  "  Your  pardon,  Sire,"  he  said,  bowing ;  "  my 
zeal  carried  me  away.  Will  your  INIajesty  deign  to  excuse 
mel" 

"  Speak,  sir,  speak  boldly,"  replied  Louis.  "  You  alone 
forewarned  us  of  the  evil ;  advise  us  now  while  we  look 
for  the  remedy !  " 

"  Sire,"  said  Yillefort,  "  the  usurper  is  detested  in  the 
South ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  if  he  ventures  thither, 
it  will  be  easy  to  raise  Languedoc  and  Provence  against 
him." 

" Yes,  assuredly," replied  the  minister;  "but  he  is  ad- 
vancing by  Gap  and  Sisteron." 

"  Advancing  !  he  is  advancing  !  "  said  Louis  XVIIL 
*'  Is  he  then  advancing  on  Paris  ] " 

The  minister  of  poUce  kept  a  silence  which  was  equiva- 
lent to  a  full  admission. 


124  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  And  Dauphine,  Monsieur  1 "  inquired  the  king,  of 
Villefort.  "  Do  you  think  it  possible  to  rouse  that  as 
well  as  Provence  1 " 

"  Sire,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  your  Majesty  a  cruel  fact ;  but 
the  feeling  in  Dauphine  is  far  from  resembling  that  of 
Provence  or  Languedoc.  The  mountaineers  are  Bonapart- 
ists,  Sire." 

"  Then,"  murmured  Louis,  "  he  was  weU  informed. 
And  how  many  men  had  he  with  him  1 " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Sire,"  answered  the  minister  of 
police. 

"  What !  you  do  not  know  ]  Have  you  neglected  to 
obtain  information  of  this  circumstance  ]  It  is  true  this 
is  of  small  importance,"  he  added  with  a  withering 
smile. 

"  Sire,  it  was  impossible  to  learn ;  the  despatch  simply 
stated  the  fact  of  the  landing  and  the  route  taken  by  the 
usurper." 

"  And  how  did  this  despatch  reach  you  1 "  inquired  the 
king. 

The  minister  bowed  his  head,  and  while  a  deep  color 
overspread  his  cheeks,  he  stammered  out,  "  By  the  tele- 
graph, Sire." 

Louis  XVIIL  advanced  a  step,  and  folded  his  arms 
over  his  chest  as  Napoleon  would  have  done.  "  So,  then," 
he  exclaimed,  turning  pale  with  anger,  "seven  allied 
armies  overthrew  that  man.  A  miracle  of  Heaven  re- 
placed me  on  the  throne  of  my  fathers  after  twenty-five 
years  of  exile.  I  have,  during  those  five  and  twenty 
years,  studied,  sounded,  analyzed  the  men  and  things  of 
that  France  which  was  promised  to  me ;  and  when  I  have 
attained  the  end  of  all  my  wishes,  the  power  I  hold  in  my 
hands  bursts  and  shatters  me  to  atoms  !  " 

**  Sire,  it  is  fatality !  "  murmured  the  minister,  feeling 


THE  OGRE  OP  CORSICA.  125 

that  such  a  pressure,  however  light  for  destiny,  was 
sufficient  to  overwhelm  a  man. 

"  What  our  enemies  say  of  us  is  then  true  :  we  have 
learned  nothing,  forgotten  nothing  !  If  I  were  hetrayed 
as  he  was,  I  would  console  myself;  but  to  be  in  the 
midst  of  persons  elevated  by  myself  to  dignities,  who 
ought  to  watch  over  me  more  carefully  than  over  them- 
selves, —  for  my  fortune  is  theirs ;  before  me  they  were 
nothing,  after  me  they  will  be  nothing,  —  and  perish 
miserably  from  incapacity,  ineptitude  !  Oh,  yes,  Mon- 
sieur, you  are  right, — it  is  fatality!" 

The  minister  was  bowed  beneath  this  crushing  sarcasm. 
M.  de  Blacas  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  brow.  Ville- 
fort  smiled  within  himself,  for  he  perceived  his  increased 
importance. 

"  To  fall ! "  continued  King  Louis,  who  at  the  first 
glance  had  sounded  the  abyss  over  which  the  monarchy 
hung  suspended,  —  "  to  fall,  and  learn  that  fall  by  tele- 
graph !  Oh !  I  would  rather  mount  the  scaffold  of  my 
brother,  Louis  XVI.,  than  thus  descend  the  staircase  of 
the  Tuileries  driven  away  by  ridicule.  Eidicule,  Mon- 
sieur !  why  you  know  not  its  power  in  France,  and  yet 
you  ought  to  know  it !  " 

"  Sire,  Sire,"  murmured  the  minister,  "for  pity's  —  " 

"Approach,  M.  de  Villefort,"  resumed  the  king,  ad- 
dressing the  young  man,  who,  motionless  and  breathless, 
was  listening  to  a  conversation  on  which  depended  the 
destiny  of  a  kingdom,  —  "approach,  and  tell  Monsieur 
that  it  was  impossible  to  know  beforehand  all  that  he  has 
not  known." 

"Sire,  it  was  really  impossible  to  learn  secrets  which 
that  man  concealed  from  all  the  world." 

"  ReaUy  impossible  !  Yes  ;  that  is  a  great  word,  Mon- 
sieur.    Unfortunately,  there  are  great  words,  as  there  are 


126  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

great  men  ;  I  have  measured  tliem.  Really  impossible 
for  a  minister  who  has  an  office,  agents,  spies,  and  fifteen 
hundred  thousand  francs  for  secret-service  money,  to 
know  what  is  going  on  at  sixty  leagues  from  the  coast  of 
France  !  Well,  then,  see ;  here  is  a  gentleman  who  had 
none  of  tliese  resources  at  his  disposal,  —  a  gentleman, 
only  a  simple  magistrate,  who  learned  more  than  you 
with  all  your  police,  and  who  would  have  saved  my  crown, 
if,  like  you,  he  had  the  power  of  directing  a  telegraph." 

The  look  of  the  minister  of  police  was  turned  with  an 
expression  of  concentrated  hatred  on  Villefort,  who  bent 
his  head  Avith  the  modesty  of  triumph. 

"  I  do  not  mean  that  for  you,  Blacas,"  continued  Louis 
XVIII. ;  "  for  if  you  have  discovered  nothing,  at  least 
you  have  had  the  good  sense  to  persevere  in  your  suspi- 
cions. Any  other  than  yourself  would  have  considered 
the  disclosure  of  M.  de  Yillefort  as  insignificant,  or  else 
dictated  by  a  venal  ambition." 

These  words  were  meant  to  allude  to  those  which  the 
minister  of  police  had  uttered  with  so  much  confidence  an 
hour  before.  Villefort  understood  the  drift  of  the  king's 
remarks.  Any  other  person  would  perhaps  have  been 
too  much  overcome  by  the  intoxication  of  praise ;  but  he 
feared  to  make  for  himself  a  mortal  enemy  of  the  police 
minister,  although  he  perceived  that  Dandre  was  irrevoca- 
bly lost.  In  fact,  the  minister,  who  in  the  plenitude  of 
his  jiower  had  been  unable  to  penetrate  Napoleon's  secret, 
might  in  the  convulsions  of  his  dying  throes  penetrate  his 
(Villefort's)  secret,  for  which  end  he  had  but  to  interrogate 
Dantes.  He  therefore  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  crest- 
fallen minister,  instead  of  aiding  to  crush  him. 

"Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "  the  rapidity  of  the  event  must 
prove  to  your  Majesty  that  God  alone  can  prevent  it,  by 
raising  a  tempest ;  what  your  Majesty  is  pleased  to  attri- 


THE  OGRE  OF   CORSICA-  127 

bute  to  me  as  profound  perspicacity  is  simply  owing  to 
chance,  and  I  have  profited  by  that  chance  like  a  good 
and  devoted  servant,  —  that 's  all.  Do  not  attribute  to 
me  more  than  I  deserve,  Sire,  that  your  Majesty  may 
never  have  occasion  to  recall  the  first  opinion  you  have 
been  pleased  to  form  of  me." 

The  minister  of  police  thanked  the  young  man  by  an 
eloquent  look,  and  Villefort  understood  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  his  design ;  that  is  to  say,  that  without  forfeit- 
ing the  gratitude  of  the  king  he  had  made  a  friend  of  one 
on  whom,  in  case  of  necessity,  he  might  rely. 

"'Tis  well  !"  resumed  the  king.  "And  now,  gentle- 
men," he  continued,  turning  towards  M.  de  Blacas  and 
the  minister  of  police,  "I  have  no  further  occasion  for 
you,  and  you  may  retire ;  what  now  remains  to  do  must 
be  done  tlirough  the  department  of  the  minister  of  war." 

"Fortunately,  Sire,"  said  M.  de  Blacas,  "we  can  rely 
on  the  army ;  your  Majesty  knows  how  every  report  con- 
firms their  loyalty  and  attachment." 

"  Do  not  mention  reports,  Monsieur,  to  me  !  for  I  know 
now  what  confidence  to  place  in  them.  Yet,  a  propos  of 
reports,  Monsieur  the  Baron,  what  intelligence  have  you  as 
to  the  affair  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques  1  " 

"  The  affair  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques  !  "  exclaimed 
Villefort,  unable  to  repress  an  exclamation.  Then,  sud- 
denly pausing,  he  added,  "Your  pardon,  Sire,  but  my 
devotion  to  your  Majesty  has  made  me  forget,  not  my  re- 
spect towards  you,  for  that  is  too  deeply  engraven  in  my 
heart,  but  the  rules  of  etiquette." 

"  Say  and  act,  sir  ! "  replied  the  king ;  "  you  have 
acquired  to-day  the  right  to  ask  questions." 

"  Sire,"  replied  the  minister  of  police,  "  I  came  this 
moment  to  give  your  Majesty  fresh  information  which  I 
had  obtained  on  this  head,  when  your  Majesty's  attention 


128  THE  COUNT  OF   MOXTE  CRISTO. 

was  attracted  by  tliis  terrible  affair  of  the  gulf ;  and  now 
these  facts  will  cease  to  interest  your  Majesty." 

"  On  the  contrary,  Monsieur,  —  on  the  contrary,"  said 
Louis  XVIII.,  "  this  affair  seems  to  me  to  have  a  decided 
connection  with  that  which  occupies  our  attention ;  and 
the  death  of  General  Quesnel  will  perhaps  put  us  on  the 
direct  track  of  a  great  internal  conspiracy." 

At  the  name  of  General  Quesnel,  Villefort  trembled. 

"  In  fact,  Sire,"  said  the  minister  of  police,  "  aU  evi- 
dence leads  to  the  conclusion  that  this  death  is  not  the 
result  of  a  suicide,  as  we  at  first  believed,  but  of  an  assas- 
sination. General  Quesnel  had  quitted,  as  it  appears,  a 
Bonapartist  club  when  he  disappeared.  An  unknown 
person  had  been  with  him  that  morning,  and  made  an  ap- 
pointment with  him  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques ;  unfortu- 
nately, the  general's  valet-de-chambre,  who  was  dressing 
his  hair  at  the  moment  when  the  stranger  entered, 
though  he  heard  the  street  mentioned,  did  not  catch  the 
number." 

As  the  police  minister  related  this  to  the  king,  Ville- 
fort, who  followed  the  recital  as  if  his  very  existence  hung 
upon  it,  turned  alternately  red  and  pale.  The  king 
looked  towards  him. 

"  Do  you  not  think  with'  me,  M.  de  Villefort,  that  Gen- 
eral Quesnel,  whom  they  believed  attached  to  the  usurper, 
but  who  was  really  entirely  devoted  to  me,  has  perished 
the  victim  of  a  Bonapartist  ambush  1 " 

"  It  is  probable.  Sire,"  replied  Villefort.  "  But  is  this 
all  that  is  known  1 " 

"  They  are  on  the  traces  of  the  man  who  appointed  the 
meeting  with  him," 

"  On  his  traces  1 "  said  Villefort. 

"  Yes,  the  servant  has  given  his  description.  He  is  a 
man  of  from  fifty  to  fifty-two  years  of  age,  brown,  with 


THE  OGRE  OF  CORSICA.  129 

black  eyes  covered  with  shaggy  eyebrows,  and  a  tliick 
mustache.  He  was  dressed  in  a  bhie  frock-coat,  buttoned 
up  to  the  chin,  and  wore  at  his  button-hole  the  rosette  of 
an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  Yesterday  an  individ- 
ual was  foUowed  exactly  corresponding  with  tlds  descrip- 
tion, but  he  was  lost  sight  of  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de 
la  Jussieune  and  the  Rue  Coq-Heron." 

Villefort  leaned  on  the  back  of  an  armchair,  for  as 
the  minister  of  police  spoke  he  felt  his  legs  bend  under 
him ;  but  when  he  learned  that  tlie  unknown  had  escaped 
the  vigilance  of  the  agent  who  followed  him,  he  breathed 
again. 

"Continue  to  seek  for  this  man,  Monsieur,"  said  the 
king  to  the  minister  of  police ;  "  for  if,  as  all  conspires  to 
convince  me.  General  Quesnel,  who  would  have  been  so 
useful  to  us  at  this  moment,  has  been  murdered,  his  assas- 
sins, Bonapartists  or  not,  shall  be  cruelly  punished." 

It  required  all  Villefort's  sang-froid  not  to  betray  the 
terror  with  which  this  declaration  of  the  king  inspired 
him. 

"How  strange  !  "  continued  tlie  king,  with  some  asper- 
ity. "  The  police  thinks  all  is  said  when  it  says,  '  A  mur- 
der has  been  committed  ;'  and  particularly  when  it  adds, 
'  We  are  on  the  trace  of  the  guilty  persons.'  " 

"  Sire,  your  Majesty  will,  I  trust,  be  amply  satisfied  on 
this  point  at  least." 

"We  shall  see.  I  will  no  longer  detain  you,  Baron. 
M.  de  Villefort,  you  must  be  fatigued  after  so  long  a  jour- 
ney; go  and  rest  yourself.  Of  course  you  stopped  at 
your  father's?" 

A  faintness  came  over  Villefort.  "No,  Sire,"  he  re- 
plied; "  I  alighted  at  the  Hotel  de  Madrid,' in  the  Rue  de 
Tournon." 

"  But  you  have  seen  him  % " 

VOL.   I.  —  9 


130  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Sire,  I  went  straight  to  M.  le  Due  de  Blacas." 

"  But  you  will  see  him,  theu  1 " 

"  I  think  not,  Sire." 

"  Ah,  I  forgot,"  said  Louis,  smiling  in  a  manner  which 
proved  that  all  these  questions  were  not  made  without  a 
motive ;  '*  I  forgot  you  and  M.  Noirtier  are  not  on  the  best 
terms  possible ;  that  is  another  sacrifice  made  to  the  royal 
cause,  and  for  which  you  should  be  recompensed." 

"Sire,  the  kindness  your  Majesty  deigns  to  evince 
towards  me  is  a  recompense  which  so  far  surpasses  my 
utmost  ambition  that  I  have  nothing  more  to  request." 

"  Never  mind,  Monsieur,  we  will  not  forget  you  ;  make 
your  mind  easy.  In  the  meanwhile  [the  king  here  de- 
tached the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  which  he  usually 
wore  over  his  blue  coat  near  the  cross  of  Saint  Louis,  above 
the  order  of  Notre  Dame  du  Mont  Carmel  and  St.  Lazare, 
and  gave  it  to  Villefort]  —  in  the  meanwhile  take  this 
cross." 

"Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "your  Majesty  mistakes;  this 
cross  is  that  of  an  officer." 

"  Ma  foi  !  "  said  Louis  XVIIL,  "  take  it,  such  as  it  is, 
for  I  have  not  the  time  to  procure  you  another.  Blacas, 
let  it  be  your  care  to  see  that  the  brevet  is  made  out  and 
sent  to  M.  de  Villefort." 

Villefort's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  of  joy  and  pride  ; 
he  took  the  cross  and  kissed  it.  "  And  now,"  he  said, 
"  may  I  inquire  what  are  the  orders  with  which  your 
Majesty  deigns  to  honor  me  1 " 

"  Take  what  rest  you  require ;  and  remember  that, 
unable  to  serve  me  here  in  Paris,  you  may  be  of  the 
greatest  service  to  me  at   Marseilles." 

"Sire,"  replied  Villefort,  bowing,  "in  an  hour  I  shall 
have  quitted  Paris." 

"  Go,  sir,"  said  the  king  :  "  and  should  I  forget  you 


THE  OGRE  OF  CORSICA.  131 

(king's  memories  are  short),  do  not  be  afraid  to  bring 
yourself  to  my  recollection.  Monsieur  the  Baron,  send 
for  the  minister  of  war.     Blacas,  remain." 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  the  minister  of  police  to  Villefort,  as 
they  left  the  TuQeries,  "  you  enter  by  the  right  door ; 
your  fortune  is  made." 

''  Will  it  continue  1  "  muttered  Yillefort,  saluting  the 
minister,  whose  career  was  ended,  and  looking  about  him 
for  a  hackney-coach.  One  passed  at  the  moment,  which 
he  hailed.  He  gave  his  address  to  the  driver,  and  spring- 
ing in,  threw  himself  on  the  seat,  and  gave  loose  to  dreams 
of  ambition. 

Ten  minutes  afterwards  Villefort  reached  his  hotel, 
ordered  his  horses  in  two  hours,  and  desired  to  have  his 
breakfast  brought  to  him.  He  was  about  to  commence 
his  repast  when  the  sound  of  the  bell,  rung  by  a  free  and 
firm  hand,  was  heard.  The  valet  opened  the  door,  and 
Villefort  heard  his  name  pronounced. 

"  Who  could  know  that  I  was  here  already  1 "  said  the 
young  man. 

The  valet  entered. 

"  Well,"  said  ViUefort,  "  what  is  it  ?  Who  rang  ?  WTio 
asked  for  me  1 " 

"  A  stranger,  who  will  not  send  in  his  name." 

"  A  stranger  who  will  not  send  in  his  name  !  What 
can  he  want  with  me  1 " 

"  He  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

"  To  me ] " 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  he  mention  my  name  ]  " 

«  Yes." 

"  What  sort  of  person  is  he  1 " 

"  Why,  sir,  a  man  of  about  fifty." 

"  Short  or  tain  " 


132  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  About  your  own  height,  sir." 

"  Dark  or  fair  1  " 

"  Dark,  —  very  dark ;  with  black  eyes,  black  hair,  black 
eyebrows." 

"  And  how  dressed  1 "  asked  Villefort,  quickly. 

"  In  a  blue  frock-coat,  buttoned  up  close,  decorated  with 
the  Legion  of  Honor." 

"  It  is  he  !  "  said  Villefort,  turning  pale. 

"  Eh,  pardieu  !  "  said  the  individual  whose  description 
we  have  twice  given,  entering  the  door,  *'  what  a  great 
deal  of  ceremony  !  Is  it  the  custom  in  Marseilles  for  sons 
to  keep  their  fathers  waiting  in  their  ante-rooms  1 " 

"  Father  !  "  cried  Villefort,  "  then  I  was  not  deceived  ; 
I  felt  sure  it  must  be  you." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  felt  so  sure,"  replied  the  new-comer, 
putting  his  cane  in  a  corner  and  his  hat  on  a  chair,  "  allow 
me  to  say,  my  dear  Gerard,  that  it  was  not  very  filial  of 
you  to  keep  me  waiting  at  the  door." 

"  Leave  us,  Germain,"  said  Villefort.  The  servant  quit- 
ted the  apartment  with  evident  signs  of  astonishment. 


FATHER  AND  SON.  133 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FATHER   AND   SON. 

M.  IToiRTiER  —  for  it  was  indeed  he  who  entered  —  fol- 
lowed with  his  eyes  the  servant  until  he  had  closed  the 
door,  and  then,  fearing,  no  doubt,  that  he  might  be  over- 
heard in  the  ante-chamber,  he  opened  the  door  again  ;  nor 
was  the  precaution  useless,  as  appeared  from  the  rapid 
retreat  of  Germain,  who  proved  that  he  was  not  exempt 
from  the  sin  which  ruined  our  first  parents.  M.  Noirtier 
then  took  the  trouble  to  close  carefully  the  door  of  the 
ante-chamber,  then  that  of  the  bed-chamber,  and  then 
extended  his  hand  to  Villefort,  who  had  followed  all  his 
motions  with  a  surprise  from  which  he  had  not  yet 
recovered. 

"  Well,  now,  my  dear  Gerard,"  said  the  visitor  to  the 
young  man,  with  a  very  significant  look,  "  do  you  know, 
you  seem  as  if  you  were  not  very  glad  to  see  me  1 " 

"My  dear  father,"  said  Villefort,  "I  am,  on  the  con- 
trary, delighted ;  but  I  so  little  expected  your  visit  that 
it  has  somewhat  overcome  me." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  M.  Noirtier,  seating 
himself,  "  I  might  say  the  same  thing  to  you,  Avhen  you 
announce  to  me  your  wedding  for  the  28th  of  February, 
and  on  the  4th  of  March  are  here  in  Paris." 

"  And  if  I  have  come,  my  dear  father,"  said  Gerard, 
drawing  closer  to  M.  JNToirtier,  "  do  not  complain,  for  it  is 
for  you  that  I  came,  and  my  journey  will  perhaps  be  your 
salvation." 


134  THE    COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  said  M.  Noirtier,  stretching  himself  out 
at  his  ease  in  the  chair.  "  Eeally,  pray  tell  me  all  about 
it,  Monsieur  the  Magistrate,  for  it  must  be  interesting." 

"  Father,  you  have  heard  of  a  certain  club  of  Bonapar- 
tists  held  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques  1 " 

"  No.  53 ;  yes,  I  am  its  vice-president." 

"  Father,  your  coolness  makes  me  shudder." 

"  Why,  my  dear  boy,  when  a  man  has  been  proscribed 
by  the  mountaineers,  has  escaped  from  Paris  in  a  hay-cart, 
been  hunted  in  the  wilderness  of  Bordeaux  by  M.  Robes- 
pierre's bloodhounds,  he  becomes  accustomed  to  most 
things.  But  go  on,  what  about  the  club  in  the  Rue  St. 
Jacques  ?  " 

"  Why,  they  induced  General  Quesnel  to  go  there  ;  and 
General  Quesnel,  who  quitted  his  own  house  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  was  found  the  next  day  in  the 
Seine." 

"  And  who  told  you  this  fine  story?  " 

"The  king  himself." 

"  Well,  then,  in  return  for  your  story,"  continued 
Noirtier,  "  I  will  tell  you  another." 

"  My  dear  father,  I  think  I  already  know  what  you  are 
about  to  tell  me." 

"Ah,  you  have  heard  of  the  landing  of  his  Majesty  the 
Emperor  1" 

"  Not  so  loud,  Father,  I  entreat  of  you,  —  for  j^our  own 
sake  as  well  as  mine.  Yes,  I  heard  this  news,  and  knew 
it  even  before  you  could  ;  for  three  days  ago  I  posted  from 
Marseilles  to  Paris  with  all  possible  speed,  and  half- 
desperate  because  I  could  not  send  with  a  wish  two 
hundred  leagues  ahead  of  me  the  thought  which  was 
agitating  my  brain." 

"  Three  days  ago  !  You  are  crazy.  Why,  three  days 
ago  the  emperor  had  not  landed." 


FATHER  AND  SON.  135 

"  No  matter ;  I  was  aware  of  his  project." 

"  How  did  you  learn  it  1 " 

"  By  a  letter  addressed  to  you  from  the  Isle  of  Elha." 

"  To  me ] " 

"  To  you  ;  and  which  I  discovered  in  the  pocket-book 
of  the  messenger.  Had  that  letter  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  another,  you,  my  dear  father,  would  probably  ere  this 
have  been  shot." 

Villefort's  fother  laughed.  "  Come,  come,"  said  he,  "  it 
appears  that  the  Restoration  has  learned  from  the  Empire 
the  mode  of  settling  affairs  speedily.  Shot,  my  dear  boy  ! 
you  go  ahead  with  a  vengeance.  Where  is  this  letter  you 
talk  about  1  I  know  you  too  well  to  suppose  you  would 
allow  such  a  thing  to  pass  you." 

"  I  burned  it,  for  fear  that  some  fragment  might  remain, 
for  that  letter  would  have  been  your  condemnation." 

"And  the  destruction  of  your  prospects,"  rejilied 
Noirtier;  "yes,  I  can  easily  comprehend  that.  But  I 
have  nothing  to  fear  while  I  have  you  to  protect  me." 

"  I  do  better  than  that.  Monsieur  ;  I  save  you  !  " 

"  You  do  1  Why,  really,  the  thing  becomes  more  and 
more  dramatic  ;   explain  yourself !  " 

"  I  must  refer  again  to  the  club  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques." 

"  It  appears  that  this  club  is  rather  a  bore  to  the  police. 
Why  did  n't  they  search  more  vigilantly  ?  They  would 
have  found  —  " 

"They  have  not  found  ;  but  they  are  on  the  track." 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  usual  phrase  ;  I  know  it  well.  When 
the  police  is  at  fault  it  declares  that  it  is  on  the  track,  and 
the  Government  patiently  awaits  the  day  when  it  comes  to 
say  with  a  sneaking  air  that  the  track  is  lost." 

"  Yes,  but  they  have  found  a  corpse ;  General  Quesnel 
has  been  killed,  and  in  all  countries  they  call  that  a 
murder." 


136  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  A  murder,  do  you  say  1  Why,  there  is  nothing  to 
prove  that  the  general  was  murdered.  People  are  found 
every  day  in  the  Seine,  having  thrown  themselves  in,  or 
been  drowned  through  not  knowing  how  to  swim." 

"  Father,  you  know  very  well  that  the  general  was  not 
a  man  to  drown  himself  in  despair ;  and  people  do  not 
bathe  in  the  Seine  in  the  month  of  January.  No,  no  !  do 
not  mistake ;  this  death  was  clearly  a  murder." 

"  And  who  thus  designated  it  1  " 

"  The  king  himself." 

"  The  king  !  I  thought  he  was  philosopher  enough  to 
allow  that  there  was  no  murder  in  politics.  In  politics, 
my  dear  fellow,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  there  are 
no  men,  but  ideas ;  no  feelings,  but  interests ;  in  politics 
we  do  not  kill  a  man,  we  remove  an  obstacle.  "Would 
you  like  to  know  what  has  really  happened  ?  Well,  I 
will  tell  you.  It  was  thought  that  reliance  might  be 
placed  on  General  Quesnel ;  he  was  recommended  to  us 
from  the  Isle  of  Elba.  One  of  us  went  to  him  and  invited, 
him  to  the  Rue  St.  Jacques,  where  he  would  find  some 
friends.  He  came  there,  and  the  plan  was  unfolded  to 
him,  —  the  departure  from  Elba,  the  projected  landing, 
etc.  When  he  had  heard  and  comprehended  all  to  the 
fullest  extent,  lie  replied  that  he  was  a  Royalist.  Then  all 
looked  at  each  other,  —  he  was  made  to  take  an  oath,  and 
did  so,  but  with  such  an  ill  grace  that  it  was  really  tempt- 
ing Providence  to  swear  thus  !  And  yet  in  spite  of  that, 
tlie  general  was  allowed  to  depart  free,  —  perfectly  free. 
Yet  lie  did  not  return  home.  What  could  that  mean  1 
Why,  my  dear  fellow,  only  that  on  leaving  us  he  lost  his 
way.  A  murder  !  really,  Villefort,  you  surprise  me.  You, 
a  deputy  procurenr,  to  found  an  accusation  on  such  bad 
premises  !  Did  I  ever  say  to  you,  when  you  were  fulfill- 
ing your  character  as  a  Royalist,  and  cut  off  the  head  of 


FATHER  AND  SON.  137 

one  of  my  party,  '  My  son,  you  have  committed  a  mur- 
der '  1  jS"o  ;  I  said,  '  Very  well,  Monsieur,  you  have  gained 
the  victory  ;  to-morrow,  perchance,  it  will  be  our  turn.'  " 

"  But,  Father,  take  care ;  when  our  turn  comes,  our 
revenge  will  be  sweeping," 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  rely  on  the  usurper's  return  ]  " 

"  We  do." 

"  You  are  mistaken ;  he  will  not  advance  two  leagues 
into  the  interior  of  France  without  being  followed, 
tracked,  and  caught  like  a  wild  beast." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  the  emperor  is  at  this  moment  on  the 
way  to  Grenoble  ;  on  the  1 0th  or  1 2th  he  will  be  at  Lyons, 
and  on  the  20th  or  25th  at  Paris." 

"  The  population  will  rise." 

"Yes,  to  go  to  meet  him." 

"He  has  but  a  handful  of  men  with  him  ;  and  armies 
will  be  despatched  against  him." 

"Yes,  they  will  escort  him  into  the  capital.  Really, 
my  dear  Gerard,  you  are  but  a  child  ;  you  think  yourself 
well  informed  because  a  telegraph  has  told  you  three  days 
after  the  landing,  '  The  usurper  has  landed  at  Cannes  with 
several  men.  He  is  pursued.'  But  where  is  he  ;  what  is 
he  doing  1  You  know  nothing  about  it.  He  is  pursued  ; 
that  is  all  you  know.  Very  well,  in  this  way  they  will 
pursue  him  to  Paris  without  drawing  a  trigger." 

"  Grenoble  and  Lyons  are  faithful  cities,  and  will  oppose 
to  him  an  impassable  barrier." 

"  Grenoble  will  open  her  gates  to  him  with  enthusiasm ; 
all  Lyons  will  hasten  to  welcome  him.  Believe  me,  we  are 
as  well  informed  as  you  ;  and  our  police  is  as  good  as  your 
own.  Would  you  like  a  proof  of  it  1  Well,  you  wished 
to  conceal  your  journey  from  me ;  and  yet  I  knew  of  your 
arrival  half  an  hour  after  you  had  passed  the  barrier.    You 


138  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CKISTO. 

gave  your  direction  to  no  one  but  your  postilion ;  yet  I  have 
your  address,  and  in  proof  I  am  here  the  very  instant  you 
are  going  to  sit  at  table.  Ring,  then,  if  you  please,  for  a 
second  knife,  fork,  and  plate,  and  we  will  dine  together." 

"  Indeed  !  "  replied  Villefort,  looking  at  his  father  with 
astonishment,  "  you  really  do  seem  very  well  informed." 

*'  Eh  !  the  thing  is  simple  enough.  You  who  are  in 
power  have  only  the  means  that  money  produces  ;  we 
who  are  in  expectation  have  those  which  devotion 
prompts." 

"  Devotion  1  "  said  Villefort,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  devotion  ;  that  is,  I  believe,  the  word  for  hope- 
ful ambition."  And  Villefort's  father  extended  his  hand 
to  the  bell-rope  to  summon  the  servant  whom  his  son  had 
not  called.     Villefort  arrested  his  arm. 

"  Wait,  my  dear  father,"  said  the  young  man  ;  "  one 
other  word." 

"Say  it." 

"  However  ill-conducted  is  the  Royalist  police,  they  yet 
know  one  terrible  thing." 

«  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  description  of  the  man  who,  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  when  General  Quesnel  disappeared,  presented 
himself  at  his  house." 

"  Oh,  the  admirable  police  have  found  that  out,  have 
they  1     And  what  may  be  that  description  1 " 

"Brown  complexion;  hair,  eyebrows,  and  whiskers, 
black ;  blue  frock-coat,  buttoned  up  to  the  chin ;  rosette 
of  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  his  button-hole  ; 
a  hat  Avith  wide  brim,  and  a  Malacca  cane." 

"  Ah,  ah  !  they  know  that  ]  "  said  Noirtier  ;  "  and 
why,  then,  have  they  not  laid  hands  on  the  man  ] " 

"  Because  yesterday,  or  the  day  before,  they  lost  sight 
of  him  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Coq-Heron." 


FATHER  AND  SON.  139 

"  Did  n't  I  say  your  police  was  good  for  nothing  1 " 

"Yes;  but  still  it  may  lay  hands  on  him." 

"  True,"  said  Noirtier,  looking  carelessly  around  him, — 
"  true,  if  this  individual  were  not  warned  ;  but  he  is." 
And  he  added  with  a  smile,  "  He  will  consequently  change 
looks  and  costume."  At  these  words  he  rose  and  put 
ofiF  his  frock-coat  and  cravat,  went  towards  a  table  on 
which  lay  his  son's  toilet  articles,  lathered  his  face,  took 
a  razor,  and  with  a  firm  hand  cut  off  the  treacherous 
whiskers  which  gave  the  police  so  plain  a  mark  of  de- 
scription. Villefort  watched  him  with  alarm  not  unmixed 
with  admiration. 

His  whiskers  cut  off,  Noirtier  gave  his  hair  a  new  turn, 
took,  instead  of  his  black  cravat,  a  colored  neckerchief 
which  lay  at  the  top  of  an  open  portmanteau,  put  on,  in 
lieu  of  his  bluB  and  high-buttoned  frock-coat,  a  coat  of 
Villefort's  of  dark  brown  and  sloped  away  in  front,  tried 
on  before  the  glass  a  narrow-brimmed  hat  of  his  son's 
which  appeared  to  fit  him  perfectly  ;  and  leaving  his  cane 
in  the  corner  where  he  had  deposited  it,  he  made  to 
whistle  in  his  powerful  hand  a  small  bamboo  switch, 
which  the  dandy  deputy  used  when  he  walked,  and  which 
aided  in  giving  him  that  easy  swagger  which  was  one  of 
his  principal  characteristics. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  turning  towards  his  wondering  son 
when  this  disguise  was  completed,  —  "  well,  do  you  think 
your  police  will  recognize  me  now? 

"  No,  Father,"  stammered  Villefort ;  "  at  least,  I  hope 
not-" 

"  And  now,  my  dear  boy,"  continued  Noirtier,  "  I  rely 
on  your  prudence  to  remove  all  the  things  which  I  leave 
in  your  care." 

"  Oh,  rely  on  me,"  said  Villefort. 

"  Yes,  yes !  and  now  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  that 


140  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

you  have  really  saved  my  life ;  but  be  assured  I  will  re- 
turn the  obligation  to  you  very  soon." 

Villefort  shook  bis  head. 

'*  You  are  not  convinced  yet  1 " 

"  I  hope,  at  least,  that  you  may  be  mistaken." 

"  Shall  you  see  the  king  again  1 " 

«'  Perhaps." 

"  Would  you  pass  in  his  eyes  for  a  prophet  1 " 

"  Prophets  of  evil  are  not  in  favor  at  the  court, 
Father." 

"  True,  but  some  day  justice  is  done  to  them ;  and 
supposing  a  second  restoration,  you  would  then  pass  for  a 
great  man." 

"  Well,  what  should  I  say  to  the  king  1 " 

"  Say  this  to  him  :  '  Sire,  you  are  deceived  as  to  the  feel- 
ing in  France,  as  to  the  opinions  of  the  towns  and  the 
prejudices  of  the  army ;  he  whom  in  Paris  you  call  the 
ogre  of  Corsica,  who  at  Nevers  is  styled  the  usurper,  is  al- 
ready saluted  as  Bonaparte  at  Lyons,  and  emperor  at  Gre- 
noble. You  think  he  is  tracked,  pursued,  captured  ;  he  is 
advancing  as  rapidly  as  his  own  eagles.  The  soldiers  you 
believe  dying  with  hunger,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  ready 
to  desert,  increase  like  atoms  of  snow  about  the  rolling 
ball  which  hastens  onward.  Sire,  go  !  leave  France  to  its 
real  master,  —  to  him  who  did  not  buy,  but  conquered  it. 
Go,  Sire  !  not  that  you  incur  any  risk,  —  for  your  adversary 
is  powerful  enough  to  show  you  mercy,  —  but  because  it 
would  be  humiliating  for  a  grandson  of  Saint  Louis  to 
owe  his  life  to  the  man  of  Areola,  Marengo,  Austerlitz.' 
Tell  him  this,  Gerard ;  or  rather,  tell  him  nothing.  Keep 
your  journey  a  secret ;  do  not  boast  of  what  you  have 
come  to  Paris  to  do,  or  have  done.  Return  with  all  speed  ; 
enter  Marseilles  at  night,  and  your  house  by  the  back- 
door,  and  there   remain,   quiet,   submissive,   secret,  and, 


FATHER  AXD  SOX.  Ul 

above  all,  inoflfensive,  for  this  time,  I  swear  to  you,  we 
shall  act  like  powerful  men  who  know  their  enemies.  Go, 
my  son ;  go,  my  dear  Gerard ;  and  through  your  obedience 
to  my  paternal  orders  —  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  friendly  coun- 
sels —  we  shall  be  able  to  keep  you  in  your  place.  This 
will  be,"  added  Noirtier,  with  a  smile,  "  a  means  by  which 
you  may  a  second  time  save  me  if  the  political  balance 
should  one  day  place  you  high  and  me  low.  Adieu,  my 
dear  Gerard,  and  on  your  next  journey  alight  at  my  door." 
Noirtier  left  the  room  when  he  had  finished,  with  the 
same  calmness  that  had  characterized  him  during  the 
whole  of  this  remarkable  and  trying  conversation.  Ville- 
fort,  pale  and  agitated,  ran  to  the  window,  put  aside  the 
curtain,  and  saw  him  pass,  cool  and  collected,  by  two  or 
three  ill-looking  men  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  who 
were  there,  perhaps,  to  arrest  a  man  with  black  whiskers 
and  a  blue  frock-coat  and  hat  with  broad  brim. 

Villefort  stood  watching,  breathless,  until  his  father 
had  disappeared  at  the  Rue  Bussy.  Then  he  turned  to 
the  various  articles  he  had  left  behind  him,  put  at  the 
bottom  of  his  portmanteau  his  black  cravat  and  blue 
frock-coat,  threw  the  hat  into  a  dark  closet,  broke  the 
cane  into  smaU  bits  and  flung  it  in  the  fire,  put  on  his 
travelling-cap,  and  calling  his  valet,  checked  with  a  look 
the  thousand  questions  he  was  ready  to  ask,  paid  his  bill, 
sprang  into  his  carriage,  which  was  ready,  learned  at 
Lyons  that  Bonaparte  had  entered  Grenoble,  and  through 
the  midst  of  the  tumult  which  prevailed  along  the  road, 
at  length  reached  Marseilles,  a  prey  to  all  the  hopes  and 
fears  which  enter  into  the  heart  of  an  ambitious  man  amid 
his  first  successes. 


142  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE   HUNDRED    DAYS. 

M.  NoiRTiER  was  a  true  prophet,  and  things  progressed 
rapidly,  as  he  had  predicted.  Every  one  knows  the  his- 
tory of  tlie  famous  return  from  Elba,  —  that  strange  and 
wonderful  return,  which,  without  example  in  the  past, 
will  probably  remain  without  imitation  in  the  future, 

Louis  XVIII.  made  but  a  faint  attempt  to  parry  this 
unexpected  blow.  The  monarchy  which  he  had  scarcely 
reconstructed  tottered  on  its  precarious  foundation,  and  it 
needed  but  a  sign  of  the  emperor  to  hurl  to  the  ground  all 
this  edifice  incongruously  constructed  of  ancient  prejudices 
and  new  ideas.  Villefort  therefore  gained  nothing  save 
the  king's  gratitude  (which  was  rather  likely  to  injure 
him  at  the  present  time)  and  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  which  he  had  the  prudence  not  to  wear,  although 
M.  de  Biacas  had  duly  forwarded  the  brevet. 

Napoleon  would  doubtless  have  deprived  Villefort  of 
his  office  had  it  not  been  for  Noirtier,  who  was  all- 
powerful  at  the  court ;  and  thus  the  Girondin  of  '93  and 
the  senator  of  1806  protected  him  who  so  lately  had  been 
his  protector.  All  Villefort's  power  was  devoted  during 
that  revival  of  the  empire — of  which,  however,  it  was 
easy  to  foresee  the  second  fall  —  to  stifling  the  secret 
which  Dantes  had  so  nearly  divulged.  The  procureur  du 
roi  alone  was  deprived  of  his  office,  being  suspected  of 
royalism. 

However,   scarcely   was   the   imperial   power  re-estab- 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  143 

lished,  —  that  is,  scarcely  had  the  emperor  re-entered  the 
Tuileries  and  issued  his  numerous  orders  from  that  little 
cabinet  into  which  we  have  introduced  our  readers,  and 
on  the  table  of  wliich  he  found  Louis  XVIII. 's  snuff-box 
half-full, — when  Marseilles,  notwithstanding  the  attitude 
of  the  magistrates,  became  aware  that  the  embers  of  civil 
war  (only  partly  extinguished  in  the  South)  were  be- 
ginning to  glow  again ;  it  would  require  but  little  to  ex- 
cite the  populace  to  acts  of  more  decided  violence  than 
the  shouts  and  insults  with  which  they  assailed  the 
Royalists  whenever  they  ventured  abroad. 

Owing  to  this  change,  the  worthy  ship-owner  became  at 
that  moment,  we  will  not  say  all-powerful,  because  Morrel 
was  a  prudent  and  rather  a  timid  man,  —  so  much  so 
that  many  of  the  most  zealous  partisans  of  Bonaparte  ac- 
cused him  of  "  moderation,"  —  but  sufficiently  influential 
to  make  his  voice  heard  in  the  utterance  of  a  demand; 
and  that  demand,  we  may  easily  divine,  had  Dantes  for 
its  subject. 

Villefort  retained  his  place  notwithstanding  the  fall  of 
his  chief,  but  his  marriage  was  put  off  until  a  more  favor- 
able opportunity.  If  the  emperor  remained  on  the  throne, 
Gerard  would  need  a  different  alliance  to  aid  his  career, 
and  his  father  had  undertaken  to  procure  one  for  him ;  if 
Louis  XVIII.  should  return  to  the  throne,  the  influence 
of  M.  de  Saint-Meran  would  be  much  increased,  as  well 
as  his  own,  and  the  marriage  would  be  more  desirable 
than  ever.  i 

The  deputy  procureur  was,  then,  the  first  magistrate 
of  Marseilles,  when  one  morning  his  door  opened,  and 
M.  Morrel  was  announced.  Any  one  else  would  have  has- 
tened to  receive  him ;  but  Villefort  was  a  man  of  ability, 
and  he  knew  this  would  be  a  sign  of  weakness.  He  made 
Morrel  wait  in  the  ante-chamber,  although  he  had  no  one 


144  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO, 

with  him,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  procureur  du  roi 
always  makes  every  one  wait ;  and  after  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  passed  in  reading  the  papers,  he  ordered  M.  Morrel 
to  he  admitted. 

Morrel  expected  Yillefort  would  be  dejected ;  he  found 
him,  as  he  had  found  him  six  weeks  hefore,  calm,  firm, 
and  full  of  that  glacial  politeness,  the  most  insurmountable 
of  all  barriers,  which  separates  the  well-bred  and  the  vul- 
gar man.  He  had  penetrated  into  Villefort's  cabinet,  con- 
vinced the  magistrate  would  tremble  at  the  sight  of  him  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  felt  a  cold  shudder  all  over  him  when 
he  beheld  Villefort  seated,  his  elbow  on  his  desk,  and  his 
head  leaning  on  his  hand.  He  stopped  at  the  door. 
Villefort  gazed  at  him  as  if  he  had  some  difficulty  in  rec- 
ognizing him ;  then,  after  a  brief  interval,  during  which 
the  honest  ship-owner  turned  his  hat  in  his  hands,  — 

"  M.  Morrel,  I  believe  1 "  said  Villefort. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur." 

"  Come  nearer,"  said  tlie  magistrate,  with  a  patronizing 
wave  of  the  hand,  "and  tell  me  to  what  circumstance  I 
owe  the  honor  of  this  visit." 

"  Do  you  not  guess.  Monsieur  ?  "  asked  Morrel. 

"  Not  in  the  least ;  but  if  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way  I 
shall  be  delighted." 

"  Everything  depends  on  you." 

"  Explain  yourself,  pray." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Morrel,  recovering  his  assurance  as  he 
proceeded,  "  you  recollect  that  a  few  days  before  the  land- 
ing of  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  I  came  to  intercede  for  a 
young  man,  the  mate  of  my  ship,  who  was  accused  of 
having  relations  with  the  Isle  of  Elba.  Those  relations, 
which  were  then  a  crime,  are  to-day  titles  to  favor.  You 
then  served  Louis  XVIII.,  and  you  showed  no  favor,  —  it 
was  your  duty ;  to-day  you  serve  Napoleon,  and  you  ouglit 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  145 

to  protect  him,  —  it  is  equally  your  duty.  I  come,  there 
fore,  to  ask  what  has  become  of  that  young  man  1 " 

Villefort  made  a  violent  effort  over  himself.  "  What  is 
his  name  ? "  said  he.     "  Tell  me  his  name." 

"  Edmond  Dantes." 

Villefort  would  certainly  have  rather  stood  opposite  the 
muzzle  of  a  pistol  at  five  and  twenty  paces  than  have  heard 
this  name  pronounced ;  but  he  betrayed  no  emotion. 

" Dantes r'  repeated  he,  "Edmond  Dantes?" 

"  Yes,  Monsieur," 

Villefort  opened  a  large  register,  then  went  to  a  table, 
from  the  table  turned  to  his  registers,  and  then  turning 
to  Morrel,  — 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  are  not  mistaken,  Monsieur  ] " 
said  he,  in  the  most  natural  tone  in  the  world. 

Had  Morrel  been  a  more  quick-sighted  man,  or  better 
versed  in  these  matters,  he  would  have  been  surprised  at 
the  prociireur  du  roi  answering  him  on  sucli  a  subject, 
instead  of  referring  him  to  the  governors  of  the  prison  or 
the  prefect  of  the  department.  But  Morrel,  disappointed 
in  his  expectations  of  exciting  fear,  saw  in  its  place  only 
condescension.     Villefort  had  calculated  rightly. 

"  No,"  said  Morrel,  "  I  am  not  mistaken.  I  have  known 
him  ten  years,  and  the  last  four  he  has  been  in  my  service. 
I  came  about  six  weeks  ago,  as  you  may  remember,  to 
beseech  your  clemency,  as  I  come  to-day  to  beseech  your 
justice.  You  received  me  very  coldly.  Oh,  the  Roy- 
alists were  very  severe  with  the  Bonapartists  in  those 
days." 

"Monsieur,"  returned  Villefort,  "I  was  then  a  Eoyalist, 
because  I  believed  the  Bourbons  not  only  the  heirs  to  the 
throne,  but  the  chosen  of  the  nation.  The  miraculous 
return  of  Napoleon  has  proved  that  I  was  mistaken ;  the 
legitimate  monarch  is  he  who  is  loved  by  his  people." 

VOL.    I.  —  10 


146  THE  COUNT  OP   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  That 's  right ! "  cried  MorreL  "  I  like  to  hear  you 
speak  thus,  and  I  augur  well  for  Edmond  from  it." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Villefort,  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  register ;  "  I  have  it,  —  a  sailor,  who  was  about 
to  marry  a  young  Catalan  girl.  I  recollect  now,  it  was  a 
very  serious  charge." 

"  How  so  1 " 

"  You  know  that  when  he  left  here  he  was  taken  to  the 
prison  of  the  Palais  de  Justice." 

"  Well  ] " 

"  I  made  my  report  to  the  authorities  at  Paris ;  I  sent 
the  papers  found  upon  him.  That  was  my  duty,  as  you 
must  admit.     A  week  later  he  was  carried  off." 

"Carried  off!"  said  MorreL  "What  can  they  have 
done  with  the  poor  lad  1 " 

"  Oh,  he  has  been  taken  to  Fenestrelle,  to  Pignerol,  or 
to  the  island  of  Ste.  Marguerite.  Some  fine  morning  he 
will  return  to  assume  the  command  of  your  vessel." 

"Come  when  he  will,  it  shall  be  kept  for  him.  But 
how  is  it  he  is  not  already  returned  1  It  seems  to  me  the 
first  care  of  Bonapartist  justice  should  be  to  set  at  liberty 
those  who  have  been  imprisoned  by  Royalist  injustice." 

"  Do  not  be  too  hasty,  M.  Morrel,"  replied  Villefort. 
"  We  must  in  all  things  proceed  according  to  law.  The 
order  of  imprisonment  came  from  high  authority,  and  the 
order  for  his  liberation  must  proceed  from  the  same  source ; 
and  as  Napoleon  has  scarcely  been  reinstated  a  fortnight, 
the  letters  have  not  yet  been  forwarded." 

"  But,"  said  Morrel,  "  is  there  no  way  of  expediting 
these  formalities,  now  that  we  have  triumphed?  I  have 
a  few  friends  and  some  influence ;  I  can  obtain  a  with- 
drawal of  his  arrest." 

"  There  has  been  no  arrest." 

"  Of  his  enrolment,  then,  on  the  prison  register." 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  147 

"  In  political  matters  there  is  no  prison  registry.  It  is 
sometimes  essential  to  Government  to  cause  a  man's  disap- 
pearance without  leaving  any  traces.  A  registry  might 
guide  investigation." 

"  It  was  perhaps  like  that  under  the  Bourbons,  but  at 
present  —  " 

"  It  is  always  the  same,  my  dear  Morrel,  since  the  reign 
of  Louis  XIV.  The  emperor  is  more  strict  in  prison  dis- 
cipline than  even  Louis  liimself,  and  the  number  of  pris- 
oners whose  names  are  not  on  the  register  is  incalculable." 

Had  Morrel  even  any  suspicions,  so  much  kindness 
would  have  dispelled  them.  "  Well,  M.  de  Villefort,  how 
would  you  advise  me  to  act  to  hasten  the  return  of  poor 
Dantesi"  asked  he. 

"Petition  the  minister." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  that  is ;  the  minister  receives  two 
hundred  every  day,  and  does  not  read  three." 

"  That  is  true ;  but  he  will  read  a  petition  countersigned 
and  pi-esented  by  me." 

"  And  will  you  undertake  to  deliver  it  ] " 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure.  Dantes  was  then  guilty, 
but  now  he  is  innocent ;  and  it  is  as  much  my  duty  to 
free  him  as  it  was  to  condemn  him." 

In  this  way  Villefort  avoided  the  danger  of  an  investi- 
gation—  not  very  probable  indeed,  but'  possible —  which 
would  have  rained  him. 

"  But  how  shall  I  address  the  minister  1  " 

"  Sit  down  there,"  said  Villefort,  giving  up  his  place  to 
Morrel,  "  and  write  what  I  dictate." 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  1 " 

"  Certainly.  But  lose  no  time  ;  we  have  lost  too  much 
already." 

"  That  is  true.  Let  us  remember  that  the  poor  young 
man  is  waiting,  suffering,  perhaps  despairing." 


148  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

Villefort  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  that  prisoner  cursing 
him  in  the  silence  and  the  darkness ;  but  he  had  gone  too 
far  to  recede,  —  Dantes  must  be  crushed  beneath  the  weight 
of  Villefort's  ambition. 

Villefort  dictated  a  petition  in  which  with  an  excellent 
intention,  no  doubt,  he  exaggerated  Dantes's  patriotism 
and  his  services  to  the  Bonapartist  cause.  In  that  peti- 
tion Dantes  appeared  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  active 
agents  in  the  return  of  Napoleon.  It  was  to  be  presumed 
that  at  the  sight  of  this  document  the  minister  would  in- 
stantly release  him.  The  petition  finished,  Villefort  read 
it  aloud. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  he  ;  "  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"  Will  the  petition  go  soon  1 " 

"To-day." 

"  Countersigned  by  you  1  " 

"  The  best  thing  I  can  do  will  be  to  certify  the  truth  of 
the  contents  of  your  petition."  And  sitting  down,  Ville- 
fort Avrote  the  certificate  at  the  bottom. 

"  What  more  is  to  be  done  1 "  asked  Morrel. 

"  Wait,"  replied  Villefort ;  "  I  will  answer  for  every- 
thing." 

This  assurance  charmed  Morrel,  who  took  leave  of 
Villefort,  and  hastened  to  announce  to  old  Dantes  that 
he  would  soon  see  his  son. 

But  Villefort,  instead  of  sending  it  to  Paris,  carefully 
preserved  the  petition  that  so  fearfully  compromised 
Dantes,  in  case  an  event  should  occur  that  seemed  not 
unlikely  ;    that  is,  a  second  restoration. 

So  Dantes  remained  a  prisoner  lost  in  the  depths  of  his 
dungeon  ;  he  heard  nothing  of  the  commotion  attending  the 
fall  of  Louis  XVIII.'s  throne,  or  of  the  disturbances  even 
more  terrible  when  the  empire  was  overturned. 

But  Villefort  had  followed  everything  with  a  vigilant 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  149 

watchfulness,  and  had  listened  to  everything  with  an  at- 
tentive ear.  Twice  during  the  Hundred  Days  had  Morrel 
renewed  his  demand,  and  twice  had  Villefort  soothed  him 
with  promises.  At  last  there  was  Waterloo,  and  Morrel 
came  no  more  ;  he  had  done  all  that  was  in  his  power,  and 
any  fresh  attempt  would  only  compromise  him  uselessly, 

Louis  XVllI.  remounted  the  throue ;  Villefort,  to 
whom  Marseilles  suggested  too  many  remorseful  remem- 
brances, demanded  and  obtained  the  situation  of  ^jrocw- 
reur  du  roi  at  Toulouse,  and  a  fortnight  afterwards  mar- 
ried Renee,  whose  father  stood  better  at  court  than  e\er. 
Thus  is  explained  how  Dantes  during  tlie  Hundred  Days 
and  after  Waterloo  remained  in  prison  forgotten  by  God, 
if  not  by  men. 

Danglars  comprehended  the  full  extent  of  the  wretched 
fate  that  overwhelmed  Dantes,  and  like  all  men  of  small 
abilities  he  termed  this  a  decree  of  Providence.  But  when 
Napoleon  returned  to  Paris,  Danglars's  heart  failed  him, 
and  he  feared  at  every  instant  to  behold  Dantes  eager  for 
vengeance  ;  he  therefore  informed  M.  ]\Iorrel  of  his  wish  to 
quit  the  sea,  and  obtained  a  recommendation  from  him  to 
a  Spanish  merchant,  into  whose  service  he  entered  at  the 
end  of  Marcli,  —  that  is,  ten  or  twelve  days  after  Napo- 
leon's return.  He  then  left  for  Madrid,  and  was  no  more 
heard  of. 

Fernand  understood  nothing  except  that  Dantes  was 
absent.  What  had  become  of  him  he  cared  not  to  inquire. 
Only,  during  the  respite  the  absence  of  his  rival  afforded 
him,  he  reflected,  partly  on  the  means  of  deceiving  Mer- 
cedes as  to  the  cause  of  that  absence,  partly  on  plans  of 
emigration  and  abduction,  as  from  time  to  time  he  sat  sad 
and  motionless  on  the  summit  of  Cape  Pharo,  at  the  spot 
whence  Marseilles  and  the  village  of  the  Catalans  are  visi- 
ble, watching  for  the  apparition  of  a  young  and  handsome 


150  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 

mau,  who  was  for  him  also  the  messenger  of  vengeance. 
Fernand's  mind  was  made  up  ;  he  would  shoot  Dantes, 
and  then  kill  himself.  But  Fernand  was  mistaken  ;  he 
would  not  have  killed  himself,  for  he  still  cherished 
certain  hopes. 

During  this  time  the  empire  made  a  last  appeal,  and  all 
the  men  in  France  capable  of  bearing  arms  rushed  to  obey 
the  summons  of  their  emperor.  Fernand  departed  with 
the  rest,  bearing  with  him  the  terril)le  thought  that  per- 
haps his  rival  would  come  in  his  absence,  and  would  marry 
Mercedes.  Had  Fernand  really  meant  to  kill  himself,  he 
would  have  done  so  M'hen  he  parted  from  Mercedes.  His 
devotion,  and  the  compassion  be  showed  for  her  misfor- 
tunes produced  the  effect  they  always  produce  on  noble 
minds  ;  Mercedes  had  always  had  a  sincere  regard  for 
Fernand,  and  this  was  now  strengthened  by  gratitude. 

"  My  brother,"  said  she,  as  she  placed  his  knapsack 
on  his  shoulders,  **  be  careful  of  yourself,  for  if  you  are 
killed,  I  shall  be  alone  in  the  world."  These  words  in- 
fused a  ray  of  hope  into  Fernand's  heart.  Should  Dantes 
not  return,  Mercedes  might  one  day  be  his. 

Mercedes  was  left  alone  to  gaze  on  this  vast  plain  that 
had  never  seemed  so  barren,  and  the  sea  that  had  never 
seemed  so  vast.  Bathed  in  tears,  she  might  be  seen  wan- 
dering continually  about  the  little  village  of  the  Catalans. 
Sometimes  she  stood  mute  and  motionless  as  a  statue, 
gazing  towards  Marseilles  ;  at  other  times  sitting  by  the 
shore  she  listened  to  the  groanings  of  the  sea,  eternal  like 
her  sorrow,  and  asked  herself  whether  it  were  not  better 
to  cast  herself  into  the  abyss  of  ocean  than  thus  to  suffer 
the  cruel  vicissitudes  of  a  waiting  without  hope.  It  was 
not  want  of  courage  that  prevented  her  putting  this  idea 
into  execution  ;  but  her  religious  feelings  came  to  her  aid 
and  saved  her. 


THE  HUNDRED  DAYS.  151 

Caderousse  was,  like  Fernand,  enrolled  in  the  army,  but 
being  married  and  eight  years  older,  he  was  merely  sent 
to  the  frontier.  Old  Dantes,  who  was  only  sustained  by 
hope  lost  all  hope  at  Napoleon's  downfall.  Five  months 
after  he  had  been  separated  from  his  son,  and  almost  at 
the  very  hour  at  which  he  had  been  arrested,  he  breathed 
his  last  m  Mercedes's  arms.  M.  Morrel  paid  the  expenses 
of  his  funeral  and  a  few  smaU  debts  the  poor  old  man  had 
contracted. 

There  was  more  than  benevolence  in  this  action :  there 
was  coumge,-for  to  assist  even  on  his  death-bed  the 
father  of  so  dangerous  a  Bonapartist  as  Dantes,  was 
stigmatized  as  a  crime.  ' 


152  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  TWO   PRISONERS. 

A  YEAR  after  Louis  XVIII.'s  restoration,  a  visit  was 
made  to  the  Chateau  d'lf  by  the  inspector-general  of 
prisons.  Dantes  heard  from  the  recesses  of  his  cell  the 
noises  made  by  the  preparations  for  receiving  him,  — 
sounds  that  at  the  depth  where  he  lay  would  have  been 
inaudible  to  any  but  the /ear  of  a  prisoner  accustomed  to 
hear  in  the  silence  of  night  the  spider  weave  his  web,  and 
the  periodic  fall  of  the  drop  of  water  that  formed  every 
hour  on  the  ceiling  of  his  dungeon.  He  guessed  some- 
thing uncommon  was  passing  among  the  living ;  he  had 
so  long  ceased  to  have  any  intercourse  with  the  world 
that  he  looked  upon  himself  as  dead. 

The  inspector  visited  the  cells  and  dungeons,  one  after 
another,  of  several  of  the  prisoners,  whose  good  behavior 
or  stupidity  recommended  them  to  the  clemency  of  the 
Government ;  the  inspector  inquired  how  they  were  fed, 
and  if  they  had  anything  to  demand.  The  universal  re- 
sponse was  that  the  fare  was  detestable,  and  that  they 
required  their  freedom.  The  inspector  asked  if  they  had 
anything  else  to  demand.  They  shook  their  heads! 
What  could  they  desire  beyond  their  liberty?  The  in- 
spector turned  smilingly  to  the  governor :  — 

"I  do  not  know  what  reason  Government  can  assign 
for  these  useless  visits ;  when  you  see  one  prisoner,  you 
see  all,  —  always  the  same  thing,  ill  fed  and  innocent. 
Are  there  any  others  1 " 


THE  TWO  PRISONERS.  153 

"  Yes  ;  the  dangerous  and  mad  prisoners  are  in  the 
dungeons." 

"  Let  us  visit  them,"  said  the  inspector,  with  an  air  of 
fatigue.     "  I  must  fulfil  my  mission.     Let  us  descend." 

"  Let  us  first  send  for  two  soldiers,"  said  the  governor. 
"  The  prisoners  sometimes,  through  mere  uneasiness  of 
life,  and  in  order  to  be  sentenced  to  death,  commit  acts  of 
useless  violence,  and  you  might  fall  a  victim." 

"  Take  all  needful  precautions,"  repHed  the  inspector. 

Two  soldiers  were  accordingly  sent  for,  and  the  inspec- 
tor descended  a  stair  so  foul,  so  humid,  so  dark  that  the 
mere  descent  through  such  a  place  afi'ected  painfully  the 
eye,  the  smell,  and  the  respiration. 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  the  inspector,  stopping  midway,  "  what 
devil  can  be  lodged  here  ]  " 

"  A  most  dangerous  conspirator,  a  man  we  are  ordered 
to  keep  the  most  strict  watch  over,  as  he  is  daring  and 
resolute." 

"  He  is  alone." 

»  Certainly." 

" How  long  has  he  been  here? " 

"  About  a  year." 

"  Was  he  placed  here  when  he  first  arrived  ]" 

"  No,  not  until  he  attempted  to  kill  the  turnkey." 

"  To  kill  the  turnkey  '<  " 

"  Yes ;  the  very  one  who  is  lighting  us.  Is  it  not 
true,  Antoine  ] "  asked  the  governor. 

"  True  enough ;  he  wanted  to  kill  me  !  "  replied  the 
turnkey. 

"  He  must  be  mad,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  He  is  worse  than  that,  —  he  is  a  devil !  "  returned 
the  turnkej'. 

"  Shall  I  complain  of  him  1 "  demanded  the  inspector. 

"  Oh,   no ;    it  is  useless.     He  is  sufiaciently  punished 


154  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

already.     Besides,  he  is  almost  mad  now,  and  in  another 
year  he  will  be  quite  so." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  him,  —  he  will  suffer  less," 
said  the  inspector.  He  was,  as  this  remark  shows,  a  man 
full  of  philanthropy,  and  in  every  way  ht  for  his  otfice. 

"  You  are  right,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  governor  ;  "  and 
this  remark  proves  that  you  have  deeply  considered  the 
subject.  Now,  we  have  in  a  dungeon  about  twenty  feet 
distant,  and  to  which  you  descend  hv  another  stair,  an 
abbe,  ancient  leader  of  a  party  in  Italy,  who  has  been 
here  siuce  1811,  and  in  1813  went  mad,  and  who  from 
that  time  has  undergone  an  astonishing  change.  He  used 
to  weep  ;  he  now  laughs.  He  grew  thin,  he  now  grows 
fat.  You  had  better  see  him  rather  than  the  other,  for 
his  madness  is  amusing." 

"I  will  see  them  both,"  returned  the  inspector;  "I 
must  conscientiously  perform  my  duty,"  This  was  the 
inspector's  first  visit ;  he  wished  to  display  his  authority. 
*'  Let  us  visit  this  one  first,"  added  he. 

"  Willingly,"  replied  the  governor ;  and  he  signed  to 
the  turnkey  to  open  the  door.  At  the  sound  of  the  key 
turning  in  the  lock,  and  the  creaking  of  the  hinges,  Dantes, 
who  was  crouched  in  a  corner  of  the  dungeon,  where  he 
received  with  unspeakable  happiness  the  slight  ray  of 
light  that  pierced  through  his  grating,  raised  his  head. 
At  the  sight  of  a  stranger,  lighted  by  two  turnkeys,  ac- 
companied by  two  soldiers,  and  to  whom  the  governor 
spoke  bareheaded,  Dantes,  who  guessed  the  truth,  and 
that  the  moment  to  address  himself  to  the  superior  au- 
thorities was  come,  sprang  forward  with  clasped  hands. 

The  soldiers  presented  their  bayonets,  for  they  thought 
he  was  about  to  attack  the  inspector,  and  the  latter  re- 
coiled two  or  three  steps.  Dantes  saw  that  he  was  repre- 
sented as  a  dangerous  prisoner.      Then,   uniting  in  the 


THE  TWO  PRISONERS.  155 

expression  of  his  features  all  tliat  the  heart  of  man  can 
contain  of  gentleness  and  humility,  and  speaking  with  a 
sort  of  pious  eloquence  that  astonished  the  attendants,  he 
tried  to  touch  the  soul  of  the  inspector. 

The  inspector  listened  attentively  ;  then  turning  to  the 
governor,  observed,  "  He  will  become  religious ;  he  is  al- 
ready more  gentle.  He  is  afraid,  and  retreated  before  the 
bayonets  ;  madmen  are  not  afraid  of  anything.  I  made 
some  curious  observations  on  this  at  Charenton."  Then 
turning  to  the  prisoner,  "  "What  do  you  demand  ? "  said  he. 

"  I  demand  a  knowledge  of  my  crime  ;  I  demand  to  be 
brought  to  trial ;  I  demand,  in  short,  that  I  may  be  shot 
if  I  am  guilty,  and  may  be  set  at  liberty  if  innocent." 

"  Are  you  well  fed  1  "  said  the  inspector. 

"  I  believe  so ;  I  know  not,  but  that  matters  little. 
What  matters  really,  not  only  to  me,  an  unhappy  prisoner, 
but  even  more  to  the  officers  administering  justice,  and 
still  more  to  the  king  who  rules  over  us,  is  that  an  inno- 
cent man  shall  not  be  the  victim  of  an  infamous  denunci- 
ation, and  shall  not  die  in  prison  cursing  his  executioners." 

"  You  are  very  humble  to-day,"  remarked  the  governor. 
"  You  are  not  so  always  ;  the  other  day,  for  instance,  when 
you  tried  to  kill  the  turnkey." 

"  It  is  true,  sir,  and  I  beg  his  pardon,  for  he  has  always 
been  very  good  to  me  ;  but  I  was  mad,  I  was  furious." 

"  And  you  are  not  so  any  longer  1  " 

"  No ;  captivity  has  bent,  broken,  annihilated  me.  I 
have  been  here  so  long." 

"  So  long  1  When  were  you  arrested,  then  ?  "  asked 
the  inspector. 

"The  28th  of  February,  1815,  at  half-past  two  in  the 
afternoon." 

''To-day  is  the  30th  of  June,  1816;  why,  it  is  but 
seventeen  months." 


156  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Only  seventeen  months  !  "  replied  Dantes.  "  Oh, 
you  do  not  know  what  is  seventeen  months  in  prison ! 
Seventeen  ages  rather,  especially  to  a  man  who,  like  me,  had 
arrived  at  the  summit  of  his  ambition  ;  to  a  man  who,  like 
me,  was  on  the  point  of  marrying  a  woman  he  adored,  who 
saw  an  honorable  career  open  before  him,  and  who  loses 
all  in  an  instant,  —  who  from  the  enjoyment  of  a  day  the 
most  beautiful  falls  into  profoundest  night ;  who  sees  his 
prospects  destroyed,  and  is  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  his 
affianced  wife,  and  whether  his  aged  father  be  still  living ! 
Seventeen  months'  captivity  to  a  man  accustomed  to  the 
air  of  the  sea,  to  the  independence  of  a  sailor's  life,  to 
space,  to  immensity,  to  infinity  !  Monsieur,  seventeen 
months  in  prison  is  a  greater  punishment  than  is  deserved 
by  all  the  most  odious  crimes  recognized  in  human  speech. 
Have  pity  on  me,  then,  and  ask  for  me,  not  indulgence, 
but  a  trial.  Monsieur,  I  ask  only  for  judges  ;  they  cannot 
refuse  judgment  to  one  who  is  accused." 

"We  shall  see,"  said  the  inspector;  then  turning  to 
the  governor,  "  On  my  word,  the  poor  devil  touches  me. 
You  must  show  me  the  register." 

"Certainly  ;  but  you  will  find  terrible  notes  against  him." 

"  Monsieur,"  continued  Dantes,  "  I  know  it  is  not  in 
your  power  to  release  me,  but  you  can  plead  for  me,  you 
can  have  me  tried  ;  and  that  is  all  I  ask." 

"  Light  me,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  Dantes,  "  I  can  tell  by  your  voice 
you  are  touched  with  pity  ;  tell  me  at  least  to  hope." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  that,"  replied  the  inspector ;  "  I 
can  only  promise  to  examine  into  your  case." 

"  Oh,  I  am  free  then  !     I  am  saved  !  " 

"  Who  arrested  you  1 " 

"  M.  de  Yillefort.  See  him,  and  hear  what  he 
says." 


THE  TWO  PRISONERS.  157 

"  M.  de  Villefort  is  no  longer  at  Marseilles ;  he  is  now 
at  Toulouse." 

"  I  am  no  longer  surprised  at  my  detention,"  mur- 
mured Dantes,  "  since  my  only  protector  is  removed." 

"  Had  he  any  cause  of  personal  dislike  to  you  1 " 

"  None ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  very  kind  to  me." 

"  I  can,  then,  rely  on  the  notes  he  has  left  concerning 
you,  or  which  he  may  give  me  1 " 

"  Entirely." 

"  That  is  well ;  wait  patiently,  then." 

Dantes  fell  on  his  knees,  and  murmured  a  prayer  in 
which  he  commended  to  God  that  man  who  had  de- 
scended to  his  prison,  like  the  Saviour  going  to  deliver 
the  souls  in  hell.  Tlie  door  closed  ;  but  now  a  new  in- 
mate was  left  with  Dantes,  —  hope. 

"Will  you  see  the  register  at  once,"  asked  the  gov- 
ernor,  "  or  proceed  to  the  other  cell  1  " 

"  Let  us  visit  them  all,"  said  the  inspector.  "  If  I 
once  mounted  the  stairs,  I  should  never  have  the  courage 
to  descend." 

"  Ah,  this  one  is  not  like  the  other ;  and  his  madness  is 
less  affecting  than  the  reason  of  his  neighbor." 

"What  is  his  folly  1" 

"  He  fancies  that  he  possesses  an  immense  treasure. 
The  first  year  he  offered  Government  a  million  livres  for 
his  release  ;  the  second,  two  ;  the  third,  three  ;  and  so  on 
progressively.  He  is  now  in  his  fifth  year  of  captivity ; 
he  will  ask  to  speak  to  you  in  private,  and  offer  you  five 
millions." 

"  Ah,  that  is  indeed  quite  interesting.  And  what  is  the 
name  of  this  millionnaire  '?  " 

"The  Abbe  Faria." 

"No.  27,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  It  is  here ;  unlock  the  door,  Antoine." 


158  THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  turnkey  obeyed,  and  the  inspector  gazed  curiously 
into  the  chamber  of  "  the  mad  abbe."  In  the  centre  of 
the  cell,  in  a  circle  traced  upon  the  floor  with  a  fragment 
of  plaster  detached  from  the  wall,  sat  a  man  whose  tat- 
tered garments  scarcely  covered  him.  He  was  drawing  in 
this  circle  geometrical  lines,  and  seemed  as  much  absorbed 
in  his  problem  as  Archimedes  when  the  soldier  of  Marcel- 
lus  slew  him.  He  did  not  move  at  the  sound  of  the  door, 
and  continued  his  problem  until  the  flash  of  the  torches 
lighted  up  with  an  unwonted  glare  the  sombre  walls  of  his 
cell ;  then,  raising  his  head,  he  perceived  with  astonish- 
ment the  number  of  persons  in  his  cell.  He  hastily  seized 
the  coverlid  of  his  bed,  and  wrapped  it  round  him. 

"  What  do  you  demand  1 "  said  the  inspector. 

"  I,  Monsieur  !  "  replied  the  abbe,  with  an  air  of  sur- 
prise, "  I  demand  nothing." 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  continued  the  inspector  ;  "  I 
am  sent  here  by  Government  to  visit  the  prisons,  and  hear 
the  requests  of  the  prisoners." 

"  Oh,  that  is  different,"  cried  the  abbe  ;  '*  and  we  shall 
understand  each  other,  I  hope." 

"  There,  now,"  whispered  the  governor,  "  he  begins  just 
as  I  told  you  he  would." 

"  Monsieur,"  continued  the  prisoner,  "  I  am  the  Abbe 
Faria,  born  at  Rome.  I  was  for  twenty  years  Cardinal 
Spada's  secretary  ;  I  was  arrested  —  why  I  know  not  — 
in  1811  ;  since  then  I  have  demanded  my  liberty  from 
the  Italian  and  French  governments." 

"  Why  from  the  French  Government  1  " 

"  Because  I  was  arrested  at  Piombino ;  and  I  presume 
that,  like  Milan  and  Florence,  Piombino  has  become  the 
capital  of  some  French  department." 

The  inspector  and  the  governor  looked  at  each  other 
with  a  smile. 


THE  TWO  PRISONERS.  159 

"  The  devil !  my  good  fellow,"  said  the  inspector,  "your 
news  from  Italy  is  not  fresh  !  " 

"It  dates  from  the  day  on  which  I  was  arrested," 
returned  the  Abbe  Faria  ;  "  and  as  the  emperor  had  cre- 
ated the  kingdom  of  Rome  for  his  infant  son,  I  presume 
that  he  has  realized  the  dream  of  Machiavel  and  Caesar 
Borgia,  which  was  to  make  Italy  one  solid  kingdom." 

"Monsieur,"  returned  the  inspector,  "Providence  has 
changed  this  gigantic  plan  which  you  advocate  so  warmly." 

"  It  is  the  only  means  of  rendering  Italy  happy  and 
independent." 

"  Very  possibly ;  but  I  have  not  come  to  take  with  you 
a  course  in  ultramontane  politics  ;  I  have  come  to  ask  you 
if  you  have  any  complaints  to  make  in  regard  to  food  and 
lodging." 

"  The  food  is  the  same  as  in  other  prisons,  —  that  is, 
very  bad  ;  the  lodging  is  very  unwholesome,  but  on  the 
whole  passable  for  a  dungeon.  ^No  matter  about  that ; 
what  I  would  speak  of  is  a  secret  which  I  have  to  reveal 
of  the  greatest  importance." 

"  We  are  coming  to  the  point,"  whispered  the  governor. 

"It  is  for  that  reason  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  con- 
tinued the  abb^,  "  although  you  have  disturbed  me  in  a 
most  important  calculation,  which  if  it  succeeded  would 
possibly  change  Newton's  system.  Could  you  allow  me 
a  few  words  in  private  1  " 

"  What  did  1  tell  you  1 "  said  the  governor. 

"  You  knew  him,"  returned  the  inspector. 

*•  What  you  ask  is  impossible.  Monsieur,"  continued  he, 
addressing  Faria. 

"  But,"  said  the  abb^,  "  I  would  speak  to  you  of  a  large 
sum,  amounting  to  five  millions." 

"The  very  sum  you  named,"  whispered,  in  his  turn,  the 
inspector. 


160  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  However,"  continued  Faria,  perceiving  the  inspector 
was  about  to  depart,  "  it  is  not  absolutely  necessary  we 
should  be  alone  ;  Monsieur  the  Governor  can  be  present." 

"  Unfortunately,"  said  the  governor,  "  I  know  before- 
hand what  you  are  about  to  say ;  it  concerns  your  treas- 
ures, does  it  not  1 " 

Faria  fixed  his  eyes  on  him  with  an  expression  that 
would  have  convinced  any  one  else  of  his  sanity. 
"  Doubtless,"  said  he  ;  "  of  what  else  should  I  speak  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  the  Inspector,"  continued  the  governor,  "  I 
can  tell  you  the  story  as  well,  for  it  has  been  dinned  in 
my  ears  for  the  last  four  or  five  years." 

"That  proves,"  returned  the  abbe,  "that  you  are  like 
those  of  whom  the  Bible  speaks,  who  have  eyes  and  see 
not,  who  have  ears  and  hear  not." 

"  The  Government  does  not  want  your  treasures,"  replied 
the  inspector  ;  "  keep  them  until  you  are  liberated." 

The  abbe's  eyes  glistened  ;  he  seized  the  inspector's 
hand.  "But  if  I  am  not  liberated,"  cried  he,  "if,  con- 
trary to  all  justice,  I  am  kept  in  this  dungeon,  if  I  die 
here  without  having  disclosed  to  any  one  my  secret,  that 
treasure  will  be  lost !  Would  it  not  be  better  that  the 
Government  should  get  some  profit  from  it,  and  myself 
also  1  I  will  go  as  far  as  six  millions.  Monsieur ;  yes,  I 
will  relinquish  six  millions,  and  content  myself  with  what 
remains,  if  I  may  gain  my  liberty." 

"  On  my  word,"  said  the  inspector,  in  a  low  tone,  "  had 
I  not  been  told  beforehand  this  man  was  mad,  I  should 
believe  what  he  says." 

"  I  am  not  mad  !  "  replied  Faria,  who,  with  that  acute- 
ness  of  hearing  peculiar  to  prisoners,  had  not .  lost  one  of 
the  inspector's  words.  "The  treasure  I  speak  of  really 
exists  ;  and  I  offer  to  sign  a  treaty  with  you  in  which 
I  promise  to  lead  you  to  the  spot  where  you  shall  dig. 


THE  TU'O  PRISONERS.  161 

and  if  I  deceive  you,  bring  me  here  again,  —  I  ask  no 
more." 

The  governor  laughed.     "  Is  the  spot  far  from  here  1 " 

"A  hundred  leagues." 

"  It  is  not  a  bad  idea,"  said  the  governor.  "  If  every 
prisoner  took  it  into  his  head  to  travel  a  hundred  leagues, 
and  tlieir  guardians  consented  to  accompany  them,  they 
would  have  a  capital  chance  of  escaping." 

"  The  scheme  is  well  known,"  said  the  inspector ;  "  and 
Monsieur  the  Abbe  has  not  even  the  merit  of  its  invention." 
Then  turning  to  Faria,  "  I  inquired  if  you  are  well  led  1  " 
said  he. 

"  Swear  to  me,"  replied  Faria,  *'  to  free  me,  if  what  I  teU 
you  prove  true,  and  I  will  stay  herewhileyougo  to  thespot." 

"  Are  you  well  fed  1  "  repeated  the  inspector. 

"  Monsieur,  you  run  no  risk,  for,  as  I  told  you,  I  wdl 
stay  here  ;  so  there  is  no  chance  of  my  escaping." 

"You  do  not  reply  to  my  question,"  replied  the  inspec- 
tor, impatiently. 

"  Nor  you  to  mine,"  cried  the  abbe.  *'  A  curse  upon 
you,  then  !  as  upon  the  other  dolts  who  have  refused  to 
believe  me.  You  will  not  accept  my  gold  ;  I  will  keep  it 
for  myself.  You  refuse  me  my  liberty  ;  God  will  give  it 
me.  Go  !  I  have  nothing  more  to  say."  And  the  abbe, 
casting  away  his  coverlid,  resumed  his  place,  and  contin- 
ued his  calculations. 

"  What  is  he  doing  there  ?  "  said  the  inspector. 

"  Counting  his  treasures,"  replied  the  governor. 

Faria  replied  to  this  sarcasm  by  a  glance  of  profound 
contempt. 

They  went  out,  and  the  turnkey  closed  the  door  behind 
them. 

"He  has  been  wealthy  once,  perhaps,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  Or  dreamed  he  was,  and  awoke  mad." 

VOL.   I.  —  n 


162  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO- 

"  After  all,"  said  the  inspector,  with  the  naivete  of  cor- 
ruption, "  if  he  had  been  rich,  he  would  not  have  been  here." 

Thus  ended  the  adventure  for  the  Abbe  Faria.  He  re- 
mained in  his  cell,  and  this  visit  only  increased  the  belief 
of  his  insanity. 

Caligula  or  Nero,  those  great  treasure-seekers,  those 
desirers  of  the  impossible,  would  have  accorded  to  the 
poor  wretch  in  exchange  for  his  wealth  the  liberty  and 
the  air  he  so  earnestly  prayed  for.  But  the  kings  of 
modern  ages,  retained  within  the  limits  of  probability, 
have  no  longer  the  courage  of  their  desires.  They  fear 
the  ear  that  hears  their  orders  and  the  eye  that  scrutinizes 
their  actions.  Formerly  kings  believed  themselves,  or  at 
least  called  themselves,  sons  of  Jupiter,  and  retained  in 
some  degree  the  manners  of  the  god  their  father.  What 
takes  place  beyond  the  clouds  is  not  readily  controlled ; 
but  the  kings  of  to-day  hold  themselves  answerable  to  all 
persons. 

It  has  always  been  against  the  policy  of  despotic  gov- 
ernments to  sufier  the  victims  of  their  policy  to  reappear. 
As  the  Inquisition  rarely  suffered  its  victims  to  be  seen 
with  their  limbs  distorted  and  their  flesh  lacerated  by 
torture,  so  madness  is  always  concealed  in  its  cell,  or 
should  it  depart,  it  is  conveyed  to  some  gloomy  hospital, 
where  the  doctor  recognizes  neither  man  nor  mind  in  the 
deformed  remnant  of  a  human  being  which  the  jailer  de- 
livers to  him.  The  very  madness  of  the  Abb^  Faria,  gone 
mad  in  prison,  condemned  him  to  perpetual  captivity. 

The  inspector  kept  his  word  with  Dantes.  He  examined 
the  register,  and  found  the  following  note  concerning  him : 

/  Violent  Bonapartist ;  took  an  active  part 
p,  j      in  the  return  from  Elba. 

J  The  greatest  watchfulness  and  care  to  be 
\     exercised. 


THE  TW^O  PRISO^^:RS.  1G3 

This  note  was  in  a  different  hand  from  the  rest,  which 
proved  it  had  heen  added  since  his  confinenaent.  The 
inspector  could  not  contend  against  this  accusation ;  he 
simply  wrote,  "  Nothing  to  be  done." 

That  visit  had,  so  to  speak,  recalled  Dantes  to  life. 
Since  he  had  entered  the  prison  he  had  forgotten  to  count 
the  days ;  but  the  inspector  had  given  him  a  new  date, 
and  he  had  not  forgotten  it.  He  wrote  on  the  wall  with 
a  piece  of  pbster  broken  from  the  ceiling,  "  July  30,  1816," 
and  from  that  time  he  made  a  mark  every  day,  in  order 
not  to  lose  his  reckoning  again.  Days  and  weeks  passed 
away,  then  months  ;  Dantes  still  waited.  He  at  first  ex- 
pected to  be  freed  in  a  fortnight ;  this  fortnight  expired. 
He  then  reflected  that  the  inspector  would  do  nothing 
Vntil  his  return  to  Paris,  and  that  he  would  not  reach 
there  until  his  circuit  was  finished  ;  he  therefore  fixed 
upon  three  months.  Three  months  passed  away,  then  six 
more.  During  all  these  months  no  favorable  change  had 
taken  place  ;  and  Dantes  began  to  fancy  the  inspector's 
visit  was  but  a  dream,  an  illusion  of  the  brain. 

At  the  expiration  of  a  year  the  governor  was  removed ; 
he  had  obtained  the  government  of  Ham.  He  took  with 
him  several  of  his  subordinates,  and  among  them  Dantes's 
jailer.  A  new  governor  arrived.  It  would  have  been  too 
tedious  to  acquire  the  names  of  the  prisoners  ;  he  learned 
their  numbers  instead.  This  horrible  place  consisted  of 
fifty  chambers ;  their  inhabitants  were  designated  by  the 
number  of  their  chamber.  And  the  unhappy  young  man 
was  no  longer  called  Edmond  Dantes ;  he  was  now 
"  No.  34." 


164  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTEE    XV. 

NO.    34   AND    NO.    27. 

Dantes  passed  through  all  the  degrees  of  misfortune  that 
prisoners  forgotten  in  their  dungeon  suffer.  He  com- 
menced with  pride,  —  a  natural  consequence  of  hope  and 
a  consciousness  of  innocence ;  then  he  began  to  doubt  his 
own  innocence,  —  a  doubt  which  justified  in  some  measure 
the  governor's  belief  in  his  mental  alienation ;  and  then 
he  fell  from  the  height  of  his  pride,  —  he  prayed,  not 
yet  to  God,  but  to  men.  The  unhappy  man,  who  should 
begin  by  seeking  the  Lord,  puts  trust  in  him  only  after 
exhausting  all  other  hopes. 

Dantes  prayed,  then,  that  he  might  be  removed  from 
his  present  dungeon  into  another,  —  for  a  change,  how- 
ever disadvantageous,  was  still  a  change,  and  would  afford 
him  some  distraction.  He  entreated  to  be  allowed  to 
wa.lk  about,  to  have  books  and  instruments.  Nothing 
was  granted ;  no  matter,  he  asked  all  the  same.  He  ac- 
customed himself  to  speak  to  his  new  jailer,  although  he 
was,  if  possible,  more  taciturn  than  the  former ;  but  still, 
to  speak  to  a  man,  even  though  mute,  was  something. 
Dantes  spoke  for  the  sake  of  hearing  his  own  voice ;  he 
had  tried  to  speak  when  alone,  but  the  sound  of  his  voice 
terrified  him.  Often,  before  his  captivity,  Dantes's  mind 
had  revolted  at  the  idea  of  those  assemblages  of  prisoners, 
composed  of  thieves,  vagabonds,  and  murderers.  He  now 
wished  to  be  among  them,  in  order  to  see  some  other  face 
besides  that  of  his  jailer,  who  would  not  speak  to  him ; 


NO.   34  AND  NO.   27.  165 

he  sighed  for  the  galleys,  with  their  infamous  costume, 
their  chain,  and  the  brand  on  the  shoulder.  The  galley- 
slaves  breathed  the  fresh  air  of  heaven,  and  saw  each 
other.  They  were  very  happy.  He  besought  the  jailer 
one  day  to  let  him  have  a  companion,  were  it  even  the 
mad  abb^. 

The  jailer,  though  rude  and  hardened  by  the  constant 
sight  of  so  much  suffering,  was  yet  a  man.  At  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  he  had  often  compassionated  the  unhappy 
young  man  who  suffered  thus ;  and  he  laid  the  request 
of  No.  34  before  the  governor.  But  the  latter,  as  pru- 
dent as  if  he  had  been  a  politician,  imagined  that  Dantes 
wished  to  conspire  or  attempt  an  escape,  and  refused 
his  request.  Dantes  had  exhausted  all  human  resources ; 
he  then  turned  to  God. 

All  the  pious  ideas  that  had  been  so  long  forgotten 
returned.  He  recollected  the  prayers  his  mother  had 
taught  him,  and  discovered  in  them  a  meaning  until  then 
unknown  to  him  ;  for  in  prosperity  prayers  seem  but  a 
mere  assemblage  of  words,  until  the  day  when  misfortune 
comes  to  explain  to  the  unhappy  sufferer  the  sublime 
language  by  which  he  invokes  the  pity  of  Heaven !  He 
prayed,  not  with  fervor,  but  with  rage.  He  prayed  aloud, 
no  longer  terrified  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Then  he  fell 
into  a  species  of  trance.  He  saw  God  listening  to  every 
word  he  uttered ;  he  laid  every  action  of  his  life  before 
the  Almighty,  proposed  tasks  to  accomplish,  and  at  the 
end  of  every  prayer  introduced  the  entreaty  oftener  ad- 
dressed to  man  tlian  to  God,  "  Forgive  us  our  trespasses 
as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us."  Spite  of  his 
earnest  prayers,  Dantes  remained  a  prisoner. 

Then  a  gloomy  feeling  took  possession  of  him.  He  was 
simple,  and  without  education ;  he  could  not,  therefore,  in 
the   solitude  of  his  dungeon  and  of  his   own   thoughts, 


166  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

reconstruct  the  ages  that  had  passed,  reanimate  the  na- 
tions that  had  perished,  and  rebuild  the  ancient  cities  that 
imagination  renders  so  vast  and  stupendous,  and  that  pass 
before  qur  eyes,  illuminated  by  the  fires  of  heaven,  as  in 
Martinn's  pictures.  He  could  not  do  this,  his  past  life 
was  so  short,  his  present  so  melancholy,  and  his  future 
so  doubtful.  Nineteen  years  of  light  to  reflect  upon  in 
eternal  darkness  !  No  distraction  could  come  to  his  aid ; 
his  energetic  spirit,  that  would  have  exulted  in  thus  re- 
visiting the  past,  was  imprisoned  like  an  eagle  in  a  cage. 
He  clung  to  one  idea,  —  that  of  his  happiness,  destroyed 
without  apparent  cause  by  an  unheard-of  fatality ;  he 
considered  and  reconsidered  this  idea,  devoured  it  (so  to 
speak)  as  Ugolino  devours  the  skuU  of  the  Archbishop 
Roger  in  the  Inferno  of  Dante. 

Rage  succeeded  to  asceticism.  Dantes  uttered  blas- 
phemies that  made  his  jailer  recoil  with  horror,  dashed 
himself  furiously  against  the  walls  of  his  prison ;  he 
turned  his  fury  against  everything  around  him,  and  es- 
pecially against  himself,  against  the  least  thing  that  an- 
noyed him,  —  a  grain  of  sand,  a  straw,  or  a  breath  of  air. 
Then  the  letter  of  denunciation  which  ViUefort  had 
showed  to  him  recurred  to  his  mind,  and  every  line 
seemed  visible  in  fiery  letters  on  the  wall,  like  the  Mene, 
Tehel,  Upharsin  of  Belshazzar.  He  said  to  himself  that  it 
was  the  enmity  of  man,  and  not  the  vengeance  of  Heaven, 
that  had  thus  plunged  him  into  the  deepest  misery.  He 
devoted  these  unknown  persecutors  to  the  most  horrible 
tortures  he  could  imagine,  and  found  them  all  insufficient, 
because  after  torture  came  death,  and  after  death,  if  not 
repose,  at  least  that  insensibility  that  resembles  it. 

By  dint  of  constantly  dwelling  on  the  idea  that  repose 
was  death,  and  that  in  order  to  punish  cruelly  other  tor- 
tures than  death  must  be  invented,  he  began  to  reflect 


NO.   3i  AND  NO.   27.  167 

on  suicide.  Unhappy  he  who  on  the  brink  of  misfor- 
tune broods  over  these  ideas  !  The  idea  of  suicide  is  one 
of  those  dead  seas  that  seem  clear  and  smooth  to  the  eye ; 
but  he  who  unwarily  ventures  within  its  embrace  finds 
himself  entangled  in  a  quagmire  that  attracts  and  swallows 
him.  Once  thus  ensnared,  unless  the  protecting  hand  of 
God  snatch  him  thence,  all  is  over,  and  his  struggles  but 
tend  to  hasten  his  destruction.  This  state  of  mental 
anguish  is,  however,  less  terrible  than  the  sufferings  that 
precede  and  the  punishment  that  perhaps  awaits  it ;  it  is 
a  sort  of  consolation  that  points  to  the  yawning  abyss,  at 
the  bottom  of  which  is  darkness. 

Edmond  found  some  solace  in  this  idea.  All  his  sor- 
rows, all  his  sufferings,  with  their  train  of  gloomy  spectres, 
fled  from  his  cell  when  the  angel  of  death  seemed  about 
to  enter.  Dantes  reviewed  with  composure  his  past  life, 
and  looking  forward  with  terror  to  his  future,  chose  that 
middle  line  that  seemed  to  afford  him  a  refuge. 

"  Sometimes,"  said  he,  "  in  my  voyages,  when  I  was 
still  a  man,  free  and  powerful,  and  commanded  other 
men,  I  have  seen  the  heavens  become  overcast,  the  sea 
rage  and  foam,  the  storm  arise,  and  like  a  monstrous  bird 
cover  the  sky  with  its  wings.  Then  I  felt  that  my  vessel 
was  a  vain  refuge,  for  like  a  feather  in  the  hand  of  a 
giant,  it  trembled  and  shook  before  the  tempest.  Soon 
the  fury  of  the  waves  and  the  sight  of  the  sharp  rocks 
announced  the  approach  of  death,  and  death  then  terrified 
me ;  and  I  used  all  my  skill  and  intelligence  as  a  man 
and  a  sailor  in  a  struggle  against  the  Almighty !  I  did  so 
because  I  was  happy  ;  because  a  return  to  life  was  a  return 
to  enjoyment ;  because  I  had  not  courted  that  death,  had 
not  chosen  it ;  because  this  repose  on  a  bed  of  rocks  and 
seaweed  seemed  terrible ;  because  I  was  unwilling  that  I, 
a  creature  made  in  the  image  of  God,  should  serve  for 


168  TflE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

food  to  the  gulls  and  ravens.  But  now  it  is  different,  I 
have  lost  all  that  bound  me  to  life ;  death  smiles  and  in- 
vites me  to  repose.  I  die  after  my  oven  manner,  I  die 
exhausted  and  broken-spirited,  as  I  fall  asleep  after  one 
of  those  evenings  of  despair  and  rage  when  I  have  paced 
three  thousand  times  round  my  cell." 

No  sooner  had  this  idea  taken  possession  of  him  than  he 
became  more  composed  ;  he  arranged  his  couch  to  the  best 
of  his  power,  ate  and  slept  little,  and  found  this  existence 
almost  supportable,  because  he  felt  he  could  throw  it  off 
at  pleasure,  like  a  worn-out  garment.  He  had  two  means 
of  dying,  —  one  was  to  hang  himself  with  his  handkerchief 
to  the  stanchions  of  the  window ;  the  other  to  refuse  food 
and  starve  himself  But  the  former  project  was  repug- 
nant to  him.  Dantes  had  always  entertained  a  horror  of 
pirates,  who  are  hung  up  to  the  yard-arm  ;  he  would  not 
die  by  what  seemed  an  infamous  death.  He  resolved  to 
adopt  the  second,  and  began  that  day  to  execute  his  re- 
solve. Nearly  four  years  had  passed  away ;  at  the  end  of 
the  second  he  had  fallen  again  into  ignorance  of  dates, 
from  which  the  inspector  had  lifted  him. 

Dantes  had  said,  "  I  wish  to  die,"  and  had  chosen  the 
manner  of  his  death ;  and  fearful  of  changing  his  mind, 
he  had  taken  an  oath  so  to  die.  "  When  my  morning 
and  evening  meals  are  brought,"  thought  he,  "  I  will  cast 
them  out  of  the  window,  and  I  shall  be  believed  to  have 
eaten  them." 

He  kept  his  word ;  twice  a  day  he  cast  out,  by  the 
barred  aperture,  the  provisions  his  jailer  brought  him,  — 
at  first  gayly,  then  with  deliberation,  and  at  last  with 
regret.  Nothing  but  the  recollection  of  his  oath  gave 
him  strength  to  proceed.  Hunger  rendered  these  viands, 
once  so  repugnant,  appetizing  to  the  eye  and  exquisite  to 
the  sense  of  smell;  sometimes  he  held  the  plate  in  his 


NO.   34  AND  NO.   27.  169 

hand  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  and  gazed  on  the  morsel  of 
bad  meat,  of  tainted  fish,  of  black  and  mouldy  bread. 
The  deeper  instincts  of  self-preservation  yet  strove  within 
him,  and  occasionally  vanquished  his  resolve ;  then  his 
dungeon  seemed  less  sombre,  his  condition  less  desperate. 
He  was  still  young,  —  he  was  only  four  or  five  and 
twenty ;  he  had  nearly  fifty  years  to  live.  In  that  vast 
space  of  time  what  unforeseen  events  might  not  open  his 
prison  door,  and  restore  him  to  liberty  ]  Then  he  raised 
to  his  lips  the  repast  that,  like  a  voluntary  Tantalus,  he 
had  refused  himself ;  but  he  thought  of  his  oath,  and  that 
generous  nature  had  too  great  fear  of  despising  himself  to 
be  able  to  break  his  oath.  He  persisted,  then,  rigorous 
and  pitiless,  until  at  last  he  had  not  sufiicient  force  to 
cast  his  supper  out  of  the  loophole.  The  next  morning 
he  could  not  see  or  hear ;  the  jailer  feared  he  was  dan- 
gerously ill.     Edmond  hoped  he  was  dying. 

The  day  passed  away  thus.  Edmond  felt  a  species  of 
stupor  creeping  over  him  ;  the  gnawing  pain  at  his  stomach 
had  ceased  ;  his  thirst  had  abated ;  when  he  closed  his 
eyes  he  saw  myriads  of  lights  dancing  before  them,  like 
the  meteors  that  play  about  the  marshes.  It  was  the 
twilight  of  that  mysterious  country  called  Death  ! 

Suddenly,  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Edmond 
heard  a  hollow  sound  in  the  wall  against  which  he  was 
lying. 

So  many  loathsome  animals  inhabited  the  prison  that 
their  noise  did  not  in  general  awake  him ;  but  now, 
whether  abstinence  had  quickened  his  faculties,  or  wheth- 
er the  noise  was  really  louder  than  usual,  or  whether  in 
that  supreme  moment  everything  gained  in  significance, 
Edmond  raised  his  head  and  listened.  It  was  a  con- 
tinual scratching,  as  if  made  by  a  huge  claw,  a  powerful 
tooth,  or  some  iron  instrument  attacking  the  stones. 


170  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

Although  weakened,  the  young  man's  brain  instantly 
recurred  to  the  idea  that  haunts  all  prisoners,  —  liberty  ! 
It  seemed  to  him  that  Heaven  had  at  length  taken  pity 
on  him,  and  had  sent  this  noise  to  warn  him  on  the  very 
brink  of  the  abyss.  Perhaps  one  of  those  beloved  ones 
he  had  so  often  thought  of  was  thinking  of  him,  and  striv- 
ing to  diminish  the  distance  that  separated  them. 

No,  no  !  doubtless  he  was  deceived,  and  it  was  but  one 
of  those  dreams  that  hover  at  the  gate  of  death  ! 

Edmond  still  heard  the  sound.  It  lasted  about  three 
hours  ;  he  then  heard  a  noise  of  something  falling,  and  all 
was  silent. 

Some  hours  afterwards  it  began  nearer  and  more  dis- 
tinct; Edmond  became  already  interested  in  that  labor, 
which  afforded  him  companionship.  Suddenly  the  jailer 
entered. 

During  the  week  in  which  he  was  forming  his  resolu- 
tion to  die,  and  the  four  days  since  he  began  to  put  his 
resolve  into  execution,  Edmond  had  not  spoken  to  this 
man,  had  not  answered  him  when  he  inquired  what  was 
the  matter  with  him,  and  had  turned  his  face  to  the  wall 
when  he  looked  too  curiously  at  him ;  but  now  the  jailer 
might  hear  this  noise,  and  taking  alarm,  might  put  an  end 
to  it,  thus  destroying  a  ray  of  something  like  hope  that 
soothed  his  last  moments. 

The  jailer  brought  him  his  breakfast.  Dantes  raised 
himself  up,  and  began  to  speak  on  all  possible  subjects,  — 
on  the  bad  quality  of  his  food,  on  the  coldness  of  his 
dungeon,  grumbling  and  complaining  in  order  to  have  an 
excuse  for  speaking  louder,  and  wearying  the  patience  of 
the  jailer,  who  that  very  day  had  solicited  some  broth  and 
white  bread  for  his  prisoner,  and  had  brought  it  to  him. 

Fortunately  the  jailer  fancied  that  Dantes  was  deliri- 
ous ;  and  placing  his  food  on  the  rickety  table,  he  with- 


NO.   34  AND  NO.   27.  171 

drew.  Free  at  last,  Edmond  again  eagerly  listened.  The 
noise  began  again,  and  was  now  so  distinct  that  he  could 
hear  it  without  effort. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  tliought  he  ;  "  it  is  some  priso- 
ner who  is  striving  to  obtain  his  freedom.  Oh,  if  I  were 
with  him  how  I  would  help  ! " 

Suddenly  a  cloud  darkened  that  dawn  of  hope  in  a 
mind  so  used  to  misfortune  that  it  could  scarcely  under- 
stand hope  ;  the  idea  possessed  him  that  the  noise  arose 
from  the  workmen  the  governor  had  ordered  to  repair  the 
neighboring  dungeon. 

It  was  easy  to  ascertain  this  ;  but  how  could  he  risk  the 
question  1  It  was  easy  to  call  his  jailer's  attention  to  the 
noise,  and  watch  his  countenance  as  he  listened  ;  but 
might  he  not  by  this  means  betray  precious  hopes  for  a 
short-lived  satisfaction "?  Unfortunately,  Edmond's  brain 
was  still  so  feeble  that  he  could  not  bend  his  thoughts  to 
anything  in  particular. 

He  saw  but  one  means  of  restoring  lucidity  and  clear- 
ness to  his  judgment.  He  turned  his  eyes  towards  the 
soup  his  jailer  had  brought  him,  rose,  staggered  towards 
it,  raised  the  vessel  to  his  lips,  and  drank  off  the  contents 
with  an  indescribable  sensation  of  comfort ;  then  he  had 
the  courage  to  abstain.  He  had  heard  that  shipwrecked 
persons  had  died  through  having  eagerly  devoured  too 
much  food.  Edmond  replaced  on  the  table  the  bread 
he  was  about  to  devour,  and  returned  to  his  couch  ;  he 
no  longer  wished  to  die.  He  soon  felt  that  his  ideas  be- 
came again  collected  ;  he  could  think,  and  strengthen  his 
thoughts  by  reasoning.  Then  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  must 
put  this  to  the  test,  but  without  compromising  anybody. 
If  it  is  a  workman,  I  need  but  knock  against  the  wall, 
and  he  will  cease  to  work  in  order  to  find  out  who  is 
knocking  and  why  he  does  so ;  but  as  his  occupation  is 


172  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

sanctioned  by  the  governor,  he  will  soon  resume  it.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  prisoner,  the  noise  I  make  will 
alarm  him ;  he  will  cease,  and  not  resume  until  he  thinks 
every  one  is  asleep." 

Edmond  rose  again,  but  this  time  his  legs  did  not  trem- 
ble, and  his  eyes  were  free  from  mists ;  he  advanced  to 
a  corner  of  his  dungeon,  detached  a  stone  loosened  by 
the  moisture,  and  with  it  knocked  against  the  wall  at 
the  place  where  the  noise  was  most  audible.  He  struck 
thrice  ;  at  the  first  blow  the  sound  ceased,  as  if  by  magic. 

Edmond  listened  intently.  An  hour  passed,  two  hours 
passed,  and  no  sound  was  heard  from  the  wall,  —  all  was 
silent  there. 

Full  of  hope,  Edmond  swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls  of 
bread,  drank  some  water,  and  thanks  to  the  excellence 
of  his  constitution,  found  himself  well-nigh  recovered. 

The  day  passed  away  in  utter  silence;  night  came 
without  the  noise  having  recommenced. 

"  It  is  a  prisoner  !  "  said  Edmond,  joyfully. 

The  night  passed  in  unbroken  silence.  Edmond  did 
not  close  his  eyes. 

In  the  morning  the  jailer  brought  his  rations  —  he  had 
already  devoured  those  of  the  previous  day ;  he  ate  these, 
listening  anxiously  for  the  sound,  walking  round  and 
round  his  cell,  shaking  the  iron  bars  of  the  loophole, 
restoring  by  exercise  vigor  and  agility  to  his  limbs,  and 
preparing  himself  thus  for  what  might  lie  before  him.  At 
intervals  he  listened  for  a  recurrence  of  the  noise,  and 
grew  impatient  at  the  prudence  of  the  prisoner,  who  did 
not  guess  he  had  been  disturbed  by  a  captive  as  anxious 
for  liberty  as  himself. 

Three  days  passed,  —  seventy-two  mortal  hours,  reck- 
oned minute  by  minute  ! 

At  length,  one  evening  just  after  the  jailer's  last  visit. 


NO.   34  AND  NO.   27.  173 

as  for  the  hundredth  time  Dantes  placed  his  ear  against 
the  wal],  he  fancied  that  he  heard  an  almost  imperceptible 
movement  among  the  stones.  He  recoiled  from  the  wall, 
walked  up  and  down  his  cell  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and 
replaced  his  ear  at  the  same  spot. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  that  something  was  taking 
place  on  the  other  side  ;  the  prisoner  had  discovered  the 
danger,  and  to  continue  his  work  in  greater  security,  had 
substituted  the  lever  for  the  chisel. 

Encouraged  by  this  discovery,  Edmond  determined  to 
assist  the  indefatigable  laborer.  He  began  by  moving  his 
bed,  behind  which  it  seemed  to  him  the  work  of  deliver- 
ance was  going  on,  and  sought  with  his  eyes  for  something 
with  which  he  might  pierce  the  wall,  penetrate  the  cement, 
and  displace  a  stone. 

He  saw  nothing.  He  had  no  knife  or  sharp  instrument ; 
the  grating  of  his  window  alone  was  of  iron,  and  he  had 
too  often  assured  himself  of  its  solidity.  All  his  furni- 
ture consisted  of  a  bed,  a  chair,  a  table,  a  pail,  and  a  jug. 
The  bed  had  iron  clamps ;  but  they  were  screwed  to  the 
wood,  and  it  would  have  required  a  screw-driver  to  take 
them  off.  The  table  and  chair  had  nothing  that  would 
serve;  the  pail  had  had  a  handle,  but  that  had  been 
removed.  There  remained  but  one  resource,  which  was 
to  break  the  jug,  and  with  one  of  the  sharp  fragments 
attack  the  wall.  He  let  the  jug  fall  on  the  floor,  and  it 
broke  in  pieces.  He  concealed  two  or  three  of  the  sharp- 
est fragments  in  his  bed,  leaving  the  rest  on  the  floor. 
The  breaking  of  his  jug  was  too  natural  an  accident  to 
excite  suspicion.  He  had  all  the  night  to  work  in,  but 
in  the  darkness  he  could  not  do  much,  and  he  soon  per- 
ceived that  his  instrument  was  blunted  against  something 
hard ;  he  pushed  back  his  bed,  and  awaited  the  day. 
With  hope,  patience  had  returned  to  him. 


174  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

All  Bight  he  heard  the  suhterranean  workman,  who 
continued  to  mine  his  way.  The  day  came ;  the  jailer 
entered.  Dantes  told  him  the  jug  had  fallen  from  his 
hands  in  drinking,  and  the  jailer  went  grumhlingly  to 
fetch  another,  without  giving  himself  the  trouble  to  re- 
move the  fragments  of  the  broken  one.  He  returned 
speedily,  recommended  the  prisoner  to  be  more  careful, 
and  departed. 

Dantes  heard  joyfully  the  key  grate  in  the  lock  ;  he  lis- 
tened until  the  sound  of  steps  died  away,  and  then,  hastily 
displacing  his  bed,  saw  by  the  faint  light  that  penetrated 
into  his  cell  that  he  had  labored  uselessly  the  previous 
evening  in  attacking  the  stone  instead  of  removing  the 
plaster  that  surrounded  it.  The  damp  had  rendered  it 
friable,  and  he  saw  joyfully  the  plaster  detach  itself,  — in 
small  morsels,  it  is  true ;  but  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour 
he  had  scraped  off  a  handful.  A  mathematician  might 
have  calculated  that  in  two  years,  supposing  that  the  rock 
was  not  encountered,  a  passage  twenty  feet  long  and  two 
feet  broad  might  be  formed.  The  prisoner  reproached 
himself  with  not  having  thus  employed  the  hours  which 
he  had  passed  in  prayers  and  despair.  In  the  six  years  — 
as  he  reckoned  —  of  his  imiDrisonment,  what  might  he  not 
have  accomplished  'i 

In  three  days  Dantes  had  succeeded,  with  the  utmost 
precaution,  in  removing  the  cement  and  exposing  the 
stone.  The  wall  was  formed  of  rough  stones,  to  give 
solidity  to  which  were  imbedded  at  intervals  blocks  of 
hewn  stone.  It  was  one  of  these  he  had  uncovered,  and 
which  he  must  remove  from  its  sockets.  He  strove  to  do 
so  with  his  nails,  but  they  were  too  weak ;  the  fragments 
of  the  jug,  inserted  in  the  opening,  broke,  and  after  an 
hour  of  useless  toil  he  paused.  Was  he  to  be  thus  stopped 
at  the  beginning,  and  was  he  to  wait  inactive  until  his 


NO.   34  AND  NO.   27.  175 

neighbor,  weary,  perhaps,  with  toil,  had  accomplished 
everything  ?  Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him ;  he 
smiled,  and  the  perspiration   dried  on  his  forehead. 

The  jailer  always  brought  Dantes's  soup  in  an  iron 
saucepan ;  this  saucepan  contained  the  soup  of  a  second 
prisoner,  —  for  Dantes  had  remarked  that  it  was  either 
quite  full  or  half  empty,  according  as  the  turnkey  gave 
it  to  himself  or  his  companion  first.  The  handle  of 
this  saucepan  was  of  iron ;  Dantes  would  have  given  ten 
years  of  his  life  in  exchange  for  it. 

The  jailer  poured  the  contents  of  this  saucepan  into 
Dantes's  plate,  who,  after  eating  his  soup  with  a  wooden 
spoon,  washed  the  plate,  which  thus  served  for  every  day. 
In  the  evening  Dantes  placed  his  plate  on  the  ground  near 
the  door  ;  the  jailer,  as  he  entered,  stepped  on  it  and 
broke  it.  This  time  he  could  not  blame  Dantes.  He  had 
done  wrong  in  leaving  it  there,  but  the  jailer  was  at  fault 
in  not  noticing  where  he  stepped. 

The  jailer  therefore  contented  himself  with  grumbling. 
Then  he  looked  about  him  for  something  to  pour  the  soup 
into  ;  Dantes's  whole  furniture  consisted  of  one  plate,  — 
there  was  no  alternative. 

"  Leave  the  saucepan,"  said  Dantes  ;  "  you  can  take  it 
away  when  you  bring  me  my  breakfast."  This  advice 
was  to  the  jailer's  taste,  as  it  spared  him  the  necessity  of 
ascending,  descending,  and  ascending  again.  He  left  the 
saucepan. 

Dantes  was  beside  himself  with  joy.  He  rapidly  de- 
voured his  food,  and  after  waiting  an  hour,  lest  the  jailer 
should  change  his  mind  and  return,  he  removed  his  bed, 
took  the  handle  of  the  saucepan,  inserted  the  point  be- 
tween the  hewn  stone  and  rough  stones  of  the  wall,  and 
employed  it  as  a  lever.  A  slight  oscillation  showed  Dantes 
that  his  plan  was  a  good  one.     At  the  end  of  an  hour  the 


176  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

stone  was  extricated  from  the  wall,  leaving  a  cavity  of  a 
foot  and  a  half  in  diameter. 

Dantes  carefully  collected  the  plaster,  carried  it  into 
the  corners  of  his  cell,  and  covered  it  with  earth.  Then, 
wishing  to  make  the  best  use  of  this  night,  in  which 
chance,  or  rather  his  own  stratagem,  had  placed  so  pre- 
cious an  instrument  in  his  hands,  he  continued  to 
work  without  ceasing.  At  the  dawn  of  day  he  replaced 
the  stone,  pushed  liis  bed  against  the  wall,  and  lay 
down.  The  breakfast  consisted  of  a  piece  of  bread ;  the 
jailer  entered  and  placed  the  bread  on  the  table. 

"  Well,  you  do  not  bring  me  another  plate,"  said 
Dantes. 

"  No,"  replied  the  turnkey,  "  you  destroy  everything. 
First  you  break  your  jug,  then  you  make  me  break  your 
plate ;  if  all  the  prisoners  followed  your  example  the  Gov- 
ernment would  be  ruined.  I  shall  leave  you  the  saucepan 
and  pour  your  soup  into  that ;  under  that  arrangement 
you  will  perhaps  avoid  breaking  dishes." 

Dantes  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  clasped  his  hands 
beneath  the  coverlid.  He  felt  more  gratitude  for  the  pos- 
session of  this  piece  of  iron  than  he  had  ever  felt  for  any- 
thing. He  had  however  remarked  that  the  prisoner  on 
the  other  side  had  ceased  to  labor.  No  matter,  this  was 
a  greater  reason  for  proceeding  ;  if  his  neighbor  would  not 
come  to  him,  he  would  go  to  him.  All  day  he  toiled  on 
untiringly,  and  by  the  evening  he  had  succeeded  in  ex- 
tracting ten  handfuls  of  plaster  and  fragments  of  stone. 
When  the  hour  for  his  jailer's  visit  arrived,  Dantes 
straightened  the  handle  of  the  saucepan  and  put  that  re- 
ceptacle in  its  accustomed  place.  The  turnkey  poured  into 
it  the  customary  ration  of  soup  and  meat,  or  rather  of 
soup  and  fish,  for  it  was  a  fast  day  ;  three  times  a  week 
the  prisoners  were  made  to  fast.      This  would  have  been  a 


NO.   34  AND  NO.   27.  177 

method  of  reckoning  time,  had  not  Dantes  long  ceased  to 
do  so.  Having  poured  out  the  soup,  the  turnkey  retired. 
Dantes  wished  to  ascertain  whether  his  neighbor  had  really 
ceased  to  work.  He  listened;  all  was  silent,  as  it  had 
been  for  the  last  three  days.  Dantes  sighed  ;  it  was  evi- 
dent that  his  neighbor  distrusted  him.  However,  he  toiled 
on  all  the  night  without  being  discouraged  ;  but  after  two 
or  three  hours  he  encountered  an  obstacle.  The  iron  made 
no  impression,  but  glided  on  a  smooth  surface ;  Dantes 
touched  it  with  his  hands,  and  found  it  was  a  beam.  This 
beam  crossed,  or  rather  blocked  up,  the  hole  Dantes  had 
made ;  it  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  dig  above  or  under 
it.  The  unhappy  young  man  had  not  expected  this  ob- 
stacle. "  Oh,  my  God !  my  God  !  "  murmured  he,  "  I 
have  so  earnestly  prayed  to  thee  that  I  hoped  ray  prayers 
had  been  heard.  After  having  deprived  me  of  my  liberty, 
after  having  denied  to  me  the  repose  of  death,  after  having 
recalled  me  to  existence,  —  my  God  !  have  pity  on  me, 
and  do  not  let  me  die  in  despair  !  " 

"  Who  talks  of  God  and  despair  at  the  same  time  1  " 
said  a  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from  beneath  the  earth, 
and  deadened  by  the  distance,  sounded  hollow  and  sepul- 
chral in  the  young  man's  ears.  Edmond's  hair  stood  on 
end,  and  he  recoiled  on  his  knees. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  "  I  hear  a  human  voice."  He  had  not 
heard  any  one  speak  save  his  jailer  for  four  or  five  years  ; 
and  to  a  prisoner  the  jailer  is  not  a  man,  —  he  is  a  living 
door  added  to  his  door  of  oak,  a  barrier  of  flesh  and  blood 
added  to  his  barriers  of  iron. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,"  cried  Dantes,  "  speak  again, 
though  the  sound  of  your  voice  terrifies  me  ;  who  are  you*?" 
"  Who  are  you  1  "  said  the  voice. 

"  An  unhappy  prisoner,"  replied  Dantes,  who  made  no 
hesitation  in  answering. 

VOL.   I.  — 12 


178  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Of  what  country  1  " 

"  A  Frenchman." 

"  Your  name  1 " 

"Edmond  Dantes." 

"  Your  profession  1  " 

"  A  sailor." 

"  How  lung  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"Since  the  28th  of  February,  1815." 

"  Your  crime  ]" 

"  I  am  innocent." 

"  But  of  what  are  you  accused  1 " 

"  Of  having  conspired  to  aid  the  emperor's  return." 

"  What !  the  emperor's  return  1  The  emperor  is  no 
longer  on  the  throne,  then  1  " 

*'  He  abdicated  at  Fontaincbleau  in  1814,  and  was  sent 
to  the  island  of  Elba.  But  how  long  have  you  been  here 
that  you  are  ignorant  of  all  tliis  1 " 

"Since  1811." 

Dantes  shuddered ;  this  man  had  been  four  years 
longer   than    himself  in    prison. 

"Do  not  dig  any  more,"  said  the  voice;  "only  tell 
me  how  high  up  is  your  excavation?" 

"  On  a  level  with  the  floor." 

"  How  is  it  concealed  1 " 

"  Behind  my  bed." 

"Has  your  bed  been  moved  since  you  have  been  a 
prisoner  1  " 

"No." 

"  What  does  your  chamber  open  on  1  " 

"A  corridor." 

"  And  the  corridor  ]  " 

"  On  the  court." 

"  Alas  !  "  murmured  the  voice. 

"  Oh,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  cried  Dantes. 


NO.  34  AND  NO.  27.  179 

"  I  am  deceived  ;  and  the  imperfection  of  my  plans  has 
ruined  all.  An  error  of  a  line  in  the  plan  has  been 
equivalent  to  fifteen  feet  in  reality,  and  I  took  the  wall 
you  are  mining  for  the  wall  of  the  fortress." 

"But  then  you  would  be  close  to  the  sea?" 

"That  is  what  I  hoped." 

"  And  supposing  you  had  succeeded  ] " 

'•  I  should  have  thrown  myself  into  the  sea,  gained  one 
of  the  islands  near  here, —  the  Isle  de  Daume  or  the  Isle 
de  Tiboulen,  —  and  then  I  should  have  been  safe." 

"  Could  you  have  swum  so  far  1 " 

"  Heaven  would  have  given  me  strength  ;  and  now  all 
is  lost ! " 

"All?" 

"  Yes ;  stop  up  your  excavation  carefully.  Do  not  work 
any  more ;  and  wait  until  you  hear  from  me." 

"  Tell  me,  at  least,  who  you  are." 

"lam  — I  am  No.  27." 

"  You  mistrust  me,  then  ? "  said  Dantes.  He  fancied 
he  heard  a  bitter  laugh  proceed  from  the  unknown. 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  Christian,"  cried  Dantes,  guessing  instinc- 
tively that  this  man  meant  to  abandon  him.  "  I  swear  to 
you  by  Christ  that  I  will  let  them  kill  me  rather  than 
suffer  your  executioners  and  mine  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
truth ;  but  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  do  not  deprive  me 
of  your  presence,  do  not  withdraw  your  voice  from  me,  or 
I  swear  to  you  —  for  I  have  reached  the  end  of  my 
endurance  —  that  I  will  dash  my  brains  out  against 
the  wall,  and  you  will  have  my  deatli  to  reproach  your- 
self with." 

"  How  old  are  you  1  Your  voice  is  that  of  a  young 
man  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  my  age,  for  I  have  not  counted  the 
years  I  have  been  here.     All  I  know  is  that  I  was  just 


180  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

nineteen  when  I  was  arrested,  the  28th  of  February, 
1815." 

*'  Not  quite  twenty-six  ! "  murmured  the  voice ;  "  at 
that  age  one  cannot  be  a  traitor." 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Dantes.  "  I  swear  to  you  again, 
rather  than  betray  you  I  will  let  them  hew  me  to  pieces  ! " 

"  You  have  done  well  to  speak  to  me  and  entreat  me, 
for  I  was  about  to  form  another  plan,  and  leave  you ;  but 
your  age  reassures  me.  I  will  come  again  to  you. 
Expect  me." 

"  When  ? " 

"  I  must  calculate  our  chances ;  I  will  give  you  the 
signal." 

"  But  you  will  not  leave  me  ;  you  will  come  to  me,  or 
you  will  let  me  go  to  you.  We  will  escape  together,  and 
if  we  cannot  escape  we  will  talk,  —  you  of  those  whom 
you  love,  and  I  of  those  whom  I  love.  You  must  love 
somebody  1 " 

"  No,  I  am  alone  in  the  world." 

"  Then  you  wiU  love  me.  If  you  are  young,  I  will  be 
your  comrade  ;  if  you  are  old,  I  will  be  your  son.  I  have 
a  father,  who  is  seventy  if  he  yet  lives ;  I  love  only  him 
and  a  young  girl  called  Mercedes.  My  father  has  not  yet 
forgotten  roe,  I  am  sure ;  but  God  alone  knows  if  she 
loves  me  still.     I  shall  love  you  as  I  loved  my  father." 

"  It  is  well,"  returned  the  voice  ;  "  to-morrow." 

These  few  words  were  uttered  with  an  accent  that  left 
no  doubt  of  his  sincerity.  Dantes  rose,  buried  the  frag- 
ments with  the  same  precaution  as  before,  and  pushed 
back  his  bed  against  the  wall.  He  then  gave  himself  up 
to  his  happiness.  He  would  no  longer  be  alone ;  he  was 
perhaps  about  to  regain  his  liberty.  At  the  worst,  if  he 
remained  a  prisoner,  he  would  have  a  companion ;  and 
captivity  that  is  shared  is  but  half  captivity. 


NO.  34  AND  NO.   27.  181 

All  day  Dantes  walked  up  and  down  his  cell,  his  heart 
bounding  with  joy.  From  time  to  time  his  joy  stifled 
him ;  he  sat  down  on  his  bed,  pressing  his  hand  on  his 
breast.  At  the  slightest  noise  he  bounded  towards  the 
door.  Once  or  twice  the  fear  crossed  his  mind  that  he 
might  be  separated  from  this  unknown,  whom  he  loved 
already.  In  that  case  his  resolution  was  formed :  when 
the  jailer  moved  his  bed  and  stooped  to  examine  the 
opening,  he  would  kill  him  with  his  water-jug.  He  would 
be  condemned  to  die,  but  he  was  already  about  to  die  of 
grief  and  despair  when  this  miraculous  noise  recalled  him 
to  life. 

The  jailer  came  in  the  evening ;  Dantes  was  on  his 
bed.  It  seemed  to  him  that  thus  he  better  guarded 
the  unfinished  opening.  Doubtless  there  was  a  strange 
expression  in  his  eyes,  for  the  jailer  said,  "  Come,  are 
you  going  mad  again  1 " 

Dantes  did  not  answer ;  he  feared  that  the  emotion  of 
his  voice  would  betray  him.  The  jailer  retired,  shaking 
his  head.  The  night  came  ;  Dantes  hoped  that  his  neigh- 
bor would  profit  by  the  silence  to  address  him,  but  he 
was  mistaken.  The  next  morning,  however,  just  as  he 
removed  his  bed  from  the  wall,  he  heard  three  knocks ; 
he  threw  himself  on  his  knees. 

"  Is  it  you  1  "  said  he  ;  "I  am  here." 

"  Is  your  jailer  gone  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Dantes;  "he  will  not  return  until  the 
evening.     We  have  twelve  hours  of  liberty." 

"  I  can  work,  then  1 "  said  the  voice. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  ;  this  instant,  I  entreat  you  ! " 

In  an  instant  the  portion  of  the  floor  on  which  Dantes 
(half-buried  in  the  opening)  was  leaning  his  two  hands, 
began  to  yield  under  him ;  he  cast  himself  back,  while  a 
mass  of  stones  and  earth  disappeared  in  a  hole  that  opened 


182  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

beneath  the  aperture  he  himself  had  formed.  Then  from 
the  bottom  of  this  passage,  the  depth  of  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  measure,  he  saw  appear,  first  the  head,  then 
the  shoulders,  and  lastly  the  body  of  a  man,  who  sprang 
lightly  into  his  celL 


A  LEARNED  ITALIAN.  183 


CHAPTEE    XVI. 

A   LEARNED    ITALIAN. 

Dant^s  received  in  his  arms  the  friend  so  long  and 
ardently  desired,  and  drew  him  towards  the  window,  in 
order  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  his  features  by  the  aid  of 
the  imperfect  light  that  struggled  through  the  grating  of 
the  prison.  He  was  a  man  of  small  stature,  with  hair 
blanched  rather  by  suffering  and  sorrow  than  by  years, 
with  deep-set,  penetrating  eyes,  almost  buried  beneath  the 
thick  gray  eyebrows,  and  a  long  (and  still  black)  beard 
reaching  down  to  his  breast.  His  worn  countenance, 
deeply  furrowed  by  care,  joined  to  the  bold  outline  of  his 
strongly-marked  features,  announced  a  man  more  accus- 
tomed to  exercise  his  moral  faculties  than  his  physical 
strength.  Large  drops  of  perspiration  were  now  standing 
on  his  brow,  while  his  garments  hung  about  him  in  such 
rags  as  to  render  it  useless  to  form  a  guess  as  to  their 
primitive  description. 

The  stranger  might  have  numbered  sixty  or  sixty-five 
years ;  but  a  certain  vigor  in  his  movements  made  it  prob- 
able that  he  was  aged  more  by  long  captivity  than  by 
mere  lapse  of  years.  He  received  the  enthusiastic  greet- 
ing of  his  young  acquaintance  with  evident  pleasure ;  his 
chilled  affections  seemed  rekindled  and  invigorated  by 
contact  with  that  glowing  soul.  He  thanked  him  with 
grateful  cordiality  for  his  kindly  welcome,  although  his 
disappointment  must  have  been  severe  on  finding  another 
dungeon  where  he  had  expected  to  find  liberty. 


184  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Let  us  first  see,"  said  he,  "  whether  it  is  possible  to 
remove  the  traces  of  my  entrance  here  ;  all  our  security 
depends  upon  our  jailers'  being  entirely  ignorant  of  it." 
Advancing  to  the  opening,  he  stooped  and  raised  the  stone 
as  easily  as  though  it  had  not  weighed  an  ounce ;  then, 
fitting  it  into  its  place,  he  said,  — 

"  You  removed  this  stone  very  carelessly ;  but  I  sup-w 
pose  you  had  no  tools  to  aid  you." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Dautes,  with  astonishment,  "  do 
you  possess  any?" 

"  I  made  myself  some  ;  and  with  the  exception  of  a  filcj 
I  have  all  that  are  necessary,  —  a  chisel,  pincers,  and 
lever." 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  to  see  these  products  of  your  industry 
and  patience  !  " 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  here  is  my  chisel."  So  say- 
ing, he  displayed  a  sharp  strong  blade,  with  a  handle  made 
of  beechwood. 

"  And  with  what  did  you  contrive  to  make  that  1 "  in- 
quired Dantes. 

"  With  one  of  the  clamps  of  my  bedstead  ;  and  this  very 
tool  has  sufficed  me  to  hollow  out  the  road  by  which  I 
came  hither,  a  distance  of  at  least  fifty  feet." 

"  Fifty  feet !  "  re-echoed  Dantes,  with  a  species  of 
terror. 

"  Do  not  speak  so  loud,  young  man  ;  don't  speak  so  loud  ! 
It  frequently  occurs  in  a  state  prison  like  this  that  persons 
are  stationed  outside  the  doors  of  the  cells  purposely  to 
overhear  the  conversation  of  the  prisoners." 

"  But  they  believe  I  am  shut  up  alone  here." 

"That  makes  no  difference." 

"  And  you  say  that  you  penetrated  a  length  of  fifty  feet 
to  arrive  here  ]  " 

"  I  do  ;  that  is  about  the  distance  that  separates  your 


A   LEARNED  ITALIAN.  185 

chamber  from  mine.  Only,  unfortunately,  I  did  not  curve 
aright ;  for  want  of  the  necessary  geometrical  instruments 
to  calculate  my  scale  of  proportion,  instead  of  taking  an 
ellipsis  of  forty  feet,  I  have  made  fifty.  I  expected,  as  I 
told  you,  to  reach  the  outer  wall,  pierce  through  it,  and 
throw  myself  into  the  sea;  I  have,  however,  kept  along 
the  corridor,  on  which  your  chamber  opens,  instead  of  go- 
ing beneath  it.  My  labor  is  all  in  vain,  for  I  find  that  the 
corridor  looks  into  a  courtyard  filled  with  soldiers." 

"  That 's  true,"  said  Dantes  ;  "  but  the  corridor  you 
speak  of  bounds  only  one  side  of  my  cell ;  there  are  three 
others.     Do  you  know  anything  of  their  situation  1 " 

"  This  one  is  built  against  the  solid  rock ;  and  it  would 
take  ten  experienced  miners,  duly  furnished  with  the  re- 
(juisite  tools,  as  many  years  to  penetrate  it.  This  other 
wall  adjoins  the  lower  part  of  the  governor's  apartments, 
and  were  we  to  work  our  way  through,  we  should  only  get 
into  some  lock-up  cellars,  where  we  must  necessarily  be  re- 
captured. The  fourth  and  last  side  of  your  ceU  faces  — 
stop  a  minute  ;   now  what  does  it  face  1 " 

The  side  which  thus  excited  curiosity  was  the  one  in 
which  was  fixed  the  loophole  by  which  the  light  was  ad- 
mitted into  the  chamber.  This  loophole,  which  gradually 
diminished  as  it  approached  the  outside,  until  there  re- 
mained only  an  opening  through  which  a  child  could  not 
have  passed,  was  for  better  security  furnished  with  three 
iron  bars,  so  as  to  quiet  all  apprehensions  even  in  the 
mind  of  the  most  suspicious  jailer  as  to  the  possibility 
of  a  prisoner's  escape.  As  the  stranger  spoke,  he  dragged 
the  table  beneath  the  window.  "  Climb  up,"  said  he  to 
Dantes. 

The  young  man  obeyed,  mounted  on  the  table,  and 
divining  the  intentions  of  his  companion,  placed  his  back 
securely  against  the  wall  and  held  out  both  hands.     The 


186  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

stranger,  whom  as  yet  Dantes  knew  only  by  the  number 
of  his  cell,  sprang  up  with  an  agility  by  no  means  to  be  ex- 
pected in  a  person  of  his  apparent  age,  and  with  the  easy 
movement  of  a  cat  or  a  lizard,  climbed  from  the  table  to 
the  outstretched  hands  of  Dantes,  and  from  them  to  his 
shoulders ;  then,  bending  himself  almost  double,  —  for  the 
ceiling  of  the  dungeon  prevented  his  holding  himself  erect, 
—  he  managed  to  slip  his  head  through  the  top  bar  of  the 
window,  so  as  to  be  able  to  command  an  unobstructed 
view  from  top  to  bottom. 

An  instant  afterwards  he  hastily  drew  back  his  head, 
saying,  "  I  thought  so  ! "  and  sliding  from  the  shoulders 
of  Dantes  as  dexterously  as  he  had  ascended,  he  nimbly 
leaped  from  the  table  to  the  ground. 

"  What  did  you  expect  to  find  1 "  asked  the  young 
man,  in  an  anxious  tone,  in  his  turn  descending  from 
the  table. 

The  elder  prisoner  appeared  to  meditate.  "  Yes,"  said 
he  at  length,  "  it  is  so.  This  side  of  your  chamber  looks 
out  upon  a  kind  of  open  gallery,  where  patrols  are  con- 
tinually passing,  and  sentries  keep  watch  day  and  night." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ? " 

*'  Certain.  I  saw  the  soldier's  shako  and  the  top  of  his 
musket;  that  made  me  draw  in  my  head  so  quickly,  — for 
I  was  fearful  he  might  also  see  me." 

"  Well  1 "  inquired  Dantes. 

'*  You  perceive  then  the  utter  impossibility  of  escaping 
through  your  dungeon  ? " 

"  Then  1 "  pursued  the  young  man,  with  a  questioning 
accent. 

"  Then,"  answered  the  elder  prisoner,  "  the  will  of  God 
be  done !  "  and  as  the  old  man  slowly  pronounced  those 
words,  an  air  of  profound  resignation  spread  itself  over 
his  care-worn  countenance.     Dantes  gazed  on    the   indi- 


A  LEARNED  ITALIAN.  187 

vidual  who  could  thus  philosophically  resign  hopes  so  long 
and  ardently  nourished,  with  an  astonishment  mingled 
with  admiration. 

"  Tell  me,  1  entreat  you,  who  you  are,"  said  he,  at 
length. 

"  Willingly,"  answered  the  stranger ;  "  if  indeed  you 
feel  any  curiosity  respecting  me,  now  that  I  am  powerless 
to  aid  you  in  any  way." 

"  You  can  console  and  support  me,  —  for  you  appear  to 
me  to  be  a  strong  man  among  the  strong." 

The  stranger  smiled  sadly.  "  Then  listen,"  said  he, 
"  1  am  the  Abbe  Faria,  and  have  been  imprisoned  in  this 
Chateau  d'lf  since  the  year  1811  ;  previously  to  which  I 
had  been  confined  for  three  years  in  the  fortress  of  Fenes- 
trelle.  In  the  year  1811  I  was  transfei'red  to  Piedmont  in 
France.  At  this  period  I  learned  that  the  destiny  which 
seemed  subservient  to  every  wish  formed  by  Napoleon 
had  bestowed  on  him  a  son,  named  King  of  Rome  even  in 
his  cradle.  I  was  very  far  then  from  expecting  the  change 
of  which  you  have  just  informed  me ;  namely,  that  four 
years  afterwards  this  colossus  of  power  would  be  over- 
thrown. Then  who  reigns  in  France  at  this  moment, 
—  Napoleon  11.1" 

"  No,  Louis  XVIII." 

"  The  brother  of  Louis  XVI. !  How  inscrutable  are 
the  ways  of  Providence  !  For  what  great  and  mysterious 
purpose  has  it  pleased  Heaven  to  abase  the  man  once  so 
elevated,  and  raise  up  the  individual  so  beaten  down  and 
depressed  ? " 

Dantes's  whole  attention  was  riveted  on  a  man  who 
could  thus  forget  his  own  misfortunes  while  occupying 
himself  with  the  destinies  of  others. 

"  But  so  it  was,"  continued  he,  "  in  England.  After 
Charles  I.  came  Cromwell ;  to  Cromwell  succeeded  Charles 


188  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

II.,  and  then  James  II.,  who  was  succeeded  by  some  son- 
in-law,  some  relative,  some  j)rince  of  Orange,  —  a  stadt- 
holder  who  made  himself  king  ;  and  then,  new  concessions 
to  the  people,  then  a  constitution,  then  liberty  !  You 
will  see  that,  young  man,"  said  he,  turning  towards  Dantes 
with  the  kindling  gaze  of  a  prophet ;  "  you  are  still  young 
enough,  —  you  will  see  it." 

"  Yes,  if  ever  I  get  out  of  prison  !  " 

"  True,"  replied  Faria,  "  we  are  prisoners  ;  but  I  forget 
this  sometimes,  and  there  are  even  moments  when  my 
mental  vision  transports  me  beyond  these  walls,  and  I 
fancy  myself  at  liberty." 

"  But  wherefore  are  you  here?  " 

"Because  in  1807  I  meditated  the  very  scheme  Napo- 
leon wished  to  realize  in  1811  ;  because,  like  Machiavel, 
I  desired  to  alter  the  political  face  of  Italy,  and  instead  of 
allowing  it  to  be  split  up  into  a  number  of  petty  principal- 
ities, each  held  by  some  weak  or  t}Tannical  ruler,  I  sought 
to  form  one  large,  compact,  and  powerful  empire ;  and 
lastly,  because  I  fancied  I  had  found  my  Caesar  Borgia  in 
a  crowned  simpleton,  who  feigned  to  enter  into  my  views 
only  to  betray  me.  It  was  projected  equally  by  Alexan- 
der VI.  and  Clement  VII. ;  but  it  Avill  never  succeed  now, 
for  they  attempted  it  fruitlessly,  and  Napoleon  was  unable 
to  complete  his  work.  Italy  seems  fated  to  be  unlucky." 
The  old  man  uttered  these  last  words  in  a  tone  of  deep 
dejection,  and  his  head  fell  listlessly  on  his  breast. 

To  Dantes  all  this  was  incomprehensible  ;  he  did  not 
understand  how  a  man  could  risk  his  life  for  interests 
such  as  these.  Napoleon,  indeed,  he  knew  something  of, 
inasmuch  as  he  had  seen  and  spoken  with  him ;  but 
Clement  VII.  and  Alexander  VI.  he  had  never  heard  of. 

"  Are  you  not,"  said  Dantes,  beginning  to  partake  of 
the  jailer's  opinion  touching  the  state  of  the  abbt^'s  brain, 


A  LEARNED  ITALIAN.  189 

"the  priest  who  is  considered  throughout  the  Chateau 
d'lf  to  be  — illl" 

"  Mad,  you  mean,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  like  to  say  so,"  answered  Dantes,  smiling. 

"  ^yell,  tlien,"  resumed  Faria,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  let 
me  answer  your  question  in  full,  by  acknowledging  that  I 
am  the  poor  mad  prisoner  of  the  Chateau  d'lf,  for  many 
years  permitted  to  amuse  the  different  visitants  to  the 
prison  with  what  is  said  to  be  my  insanity ;  and  in  all 
probability  I  should  be  promoted  to  the  honor  of  making 
sport  for  the  children,  if  children  could  be  found  in  an 
abode  devoted  like  this  to  suffering  and  despair." 

Dantes  remained  for  a  short  time  mute  and  motionless ; 
at  length  he  said,  "  Then  you  abandon  all  hope  of 
flight  ] " 

"  I  perceive  its  utter  impossibility ;  and  I  consider  it 
impious  to  attempt  that  which  the  Almighty  evidently 
does  not  approve." 

"  Nay,  be  not  discouraged.  Would  it  not  be  expecting 
too  much  to  hope  to  succeed  in  your  first  attempt  1  Why 
not  try  to  find  an  opening  in  another  direction  1  " 

"  But  do  you  know  what  I  have  done,  when  you  talk 
so  lightly  of  beginning  again  1  In  the  first  place,  I  was 
four  years  making  the  tools  I  possess,  and  have  been  two 
years  scraping  and  digging  out  earth,  hard  as  granite  it- 
self; then  I  had  to  remove  huge  stones  I  should  once  have 
deemed  impossible  to  loosen.  Whole  days  have  I  passed 
in  these  titanic  efforts,  considering  my  labor  well  repaid  if 
by  night-time  I  had  contrived  to  carry  away  a  square 
inch  of  this  hard-bound  cement,  changed  by  ages  into  a 
substance  unyielding  as  the  stones  themselves.  Then, 
to  conceal  the  mass  of  earth  and  rubbish  I  dug  up,  I  was 
compelled  to  break  through  a  staircase,  and  throw  the 
fruits  of  my  labor  into  the  hollow  part  of  it ;  but  the  well 


190  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

is  now  so  completely  choked  up  that  I  scarcely  think  it 
would  be  possible  to  add  another  handful  of  dust  without 
leading  to  a  discovery.  Consider  also  that  I  fully  believed 
I  had  accomplished  the  end  and  aim  of  my  undertaking, 
for  which  I  had  so  exactly  husbanded  my  strength  as  to 
make  it  just  hold  out  to  the  termination  of  my  enterprise ; 
and  just  at  the  moment  when  I  reckoned  upon  success, 
my  hopes  are  forever  dashed  from  me.  No,  I  repeat, 
nothing  shall  induce  me  to  renew  attempts  evidently  at 
variance  with  the  Almighty's  pleasure." 

Dantes  held  down  his  head  that  his  companion  might 
not  perceive  how  little  of  real  regret  at  the  failure  of  the 
scheme  was  expressed  on  his  countenance ;  but  in  truth, 
the  young  man  could  entertain  no  other  feeling  than  de- 
light at  finding  his  prison  would  be  no  longer  solitary  or 
uncheered  by  human  participation. 

The  abbe  rested  upon  Edmond's  bed,  while  Edmond 
himself  remained  standing.  Flight  had  never  once  oc- 
curred to  him.  There  are  indeed  some  things  which 
appear  so  impossible  that  the  mind  does  not  dwell  on 
them  for  an  instant.  To  undermine  the  ground  for  fifty 
feet ;  to  devote  three  years  to  a  labor  which  if  successful 
would  conduct  one  to  a  precipice  overhanging  the  sea  ; 
to  plunge  into  the  waves  from  a  height  of  fifty  or  sixty 
or  perhaps  a  hundred  feet,  at  the  risk  of  being  dashed  to 
pieces  against  the  rocks,  should  the  fugitive  be  fortunate 
enough  to  have  escaped  the  balls  from  the  sentinel's  mus- 
ket, and  then,  these  perils  past,  to  have  to  swim  three 
miles,  — these  were  difficulties  so  formidable  that  Dantes 
had  never  even  dreamed  of  such  a  scheme,  but  had  re- 
signed himself  to  his  fate.  But  the  sight  of  an  old  man 
clinging  to  life  with  so  desperate  a  courage  gave  a  new 
direction  to  his  ideas,  and  inspired  him  with  courage  and 
energy.     Another  man  had  attempted  what  he  had  not 


A  LEARNED  ITALIAN.  191 

even  thought  of  trying;  another  man,  not  so  younc  nor 
so  strong  nor  so  adroit  as  he,  by  the  exercise  of  skill  and 
patience  had  provided  himself  with  all  the  tools  necessary 
for  that  astonishing  work,  which  an  erroneous  measure- 
ment only  had  brought  to  nought.     Another  man  had 
done  aU  that;  nothing,  then,  was  impossible  to  Dantes ' 
^aria  had  made  his  way  through  fifty  feet  of  the  prison  • 
^antes  resolved  to  penetrate  through  double  that  distance 
Faria,  at  the  age  of  fifty,  had  devoted  three  years  to  the 
task;  he    who  was  but  half  as  old,  would  sacrifice  six. 
iam,  a  churchman  and  philosopher,  had  not  shrunk  from 
risking  his  hfe  by  trying  to  swim  a  distance  of  three  miles 
to  reach   the   isles   of  Daume,  Eatonneau,  or   Lemaire; 
should  a  hardy  sailor,  an  experienced  diver,  like  himself 
shrink  from  a  similar  task  ;  should  he,  who  had  so  often 
for  mere  amusement's  sake  plunged  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  to  fetch  up  the  bright  coral-branch,  hesitate  to  swim  a 
distance  of  three  milesl     He  could  do  it  in  an  hour,  and 
how  many  times  had  he  for  pure  pastime  continued  in  the 
water  for  more  than  twice  as  long !     At  once  Dantes  re- 
solved to  follow  the  brave  example  of  his  energetic  com- 
panion, and  to  remember  that  what  has  once  been  done 
may  be  done  again. 

After  continuing  some  time  in  profound  meditation,  the 
young  man  suddenly  exclaimed,  -I  have  found  what  you 
were  in  search  of !  "  "^ 

Faria  started.  «  Have  you,  indeed  ?  "  cried  he,  raisin^, 
his  head  with  quick  anxiety;  -pray  let  me  know  what 
It  IS  you  have  discovered." 

"  The  corridor  through  which  you  have  bored  your  way 
from  the  cell  you  occupy  extends  in  the  same  direction  a; 
the  outer  gallery,  does  it  notl" 

"  It  does." 

"  And  is  not  above  fifteen  steps  from  it  ?  " 


192  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Atoutthat." 

"Well,  then,  I  will  tell  you  what  we  must  do.  "We 
must  make  a  way  through  the  middle  of  the  corridor,  like 
the  arm  of  a  cross.  This  time  you  will  make  your  meas- 
urements more  accurately ;  we  shall  get  out  into  the  gal- 
lery you  have  described,  kill  the  sentinel  who  guards  it, 
and  make  our  escape.  All  we  require  to  insure  success 
is  courage,  which  you  possess,  and  strength,  in  which  I  am 
not  deficient ;  as  for  patience,  you  have  abundantly  proved 
yours,  —  you  shall  now  see  me  prove  mine." 

"  One  instant,  my  dear  friend,"  replied  the  abb^ ;  "  it 
is  clear  you  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  courage 
with  which  I  am  endowed,  and  what  use  I  intend  making 
of  my  strength.  As  for  patience,  I  think  I  have  abun- 
dantly exercised  that  m  taking  up  again  every  morning 
the  task  of  the  previous  night,  and  every  night  beginning 
again  the  task  of  the  day.  But  then,  young  man,  —  listen 
to  me,  —  then  I  thought  I  could  not  be  doing  anything 
displeasing  to  the  Almighty  in  trying  to  set  an  innocent 
being  at  liberty,  —  one  who  had  committed  no  offence 
and  merited  no  condemnation." 

"And  have  your  notions  changed?"  asked  Dantes. 
"  Do  you  think  yourself  guilty  since  you  have  encoun- 
tered me  1  " 

"  No ;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  become  so.  Hitherto  I 
have  fancied  myself  merely  waging  war  against  circum- 
stances ;  now  you  propose  an  enterprise  against  men. 
I  have  been  able  to  bore  through  a  wall,  or  destroy  a 
staircase  ;  but  I  will  not  pierce  a  heart  or  take  away  a 
life." 

A  slight  movement  of  surprise  escaped  Dantes.     "  Is  it 
possible,"  said  he,  "that  where  your  liberty  is  at  stake 
you  can  be  restrained  by  a  scruple  such  as  that  1  " 
"  Tell  me,"  replied  Faria,  "  what  has  hindered  you  from 


A  LEARNED  ITALIAN.  193 

knocking  down  your  jailer  with  a  piece  of  wood  torn  from 
your  bedstead,  dressing  yourself  in  his  clothes,  and  en- 
deavoring to  escape  1  " 

"  Simply  that  I  never  thought  of  such  a  scheme," 
answered  Dantes. 

"Because,"  said  the  old  man,  "the  natural  repugnance 
to  the  commission  of  such  a  crime  prevented  its  bare  idea 
from  occurring  to  you.  In  all  simple  and  allowable  things 
our  natural  instincts  keep  us  from  deviating  from  the  strict 
line  of  duty.  The  tiger,  whose  nature  teaches  him  to  de- 
light in  shedding  blood,  needs  but  the  organ  of  smelling 
to  know  when  his  prey  is  within  his  reach ;  he  springs 
upon  his  victim  and  tears  it  to  pieces.  That  is  his  in- 
stinct, and  he  obeys  it ;  man,  on  the  contrary,  shrinks 
from  blood.  Not  social  law  only,  but  natural  law  is 
opposed  to  murder." 

Dantes  remained  confused  and  silent  by  this  explana- 
tion of  the  thoughts  which  had  unconsciously  been  work- 
ing in  his  mind,  or  rather  soul ;  for  there  are  thoughts 
that  proceed  from  the  head,  and  thoughts  that  emanate 
from  the  heart. 

"Since  my  imprisonment,"  said  Faria,  "I  have  gone 
over  in  my  mind  all  the  most  celebrated  instances  of  es- 
cape from  prison.  Attempted  escapes  have  succeeded  but 
rarely.  Those  that  have  been  crowned  Avith  full  success 
have  been  long  meditated  upon  and  carefully  arranged,  — 
for  instance,  the  escape  of  the  Due  de  Beaufort  from  the 
Chateau  de  Vincennes,  that  of  the  Abb^  Dubuquoi  from 
For  I'Eveque,  and  Latude's  from  the  Bastille.  Chance 
frequently  affords  opportunities  we  should  never  ourselves 
have  thought  of.  Let  us,  therefore,  wait  patiently  for 
some  favorable  moment ;  rely  upon  it,  you  will  not  find 
me  more  backward  than  yourself  in  seizing  it." 

"Ahl"    said   Dantes,    "you   might   well   endure    the 

VOL.   I.  —  13 


194  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

tedious  delay ;  you  were  constantly  employed  in  the  task 
you  set  yourself,  and  when  weary  with  toil,  you  had  your 
hopes  to  refresh  and  encourage  you." 

"  I  assure  you,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  did  not  turn 
to  that  source  for  recreation  or  support." 

"What  did  you  do,  then]" 

"  I  wrote  or  studied." 

"  Were  you  then  permitted  the  use  of  pens,  ink,  and 
paper  1" 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  answered  the  abbe  ;  "  I  had  none  but  what 
I  made  for  myself." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  exclaimed  Dantes,  "that 
you  have  made  paper,  pens,  and  ink  ? " 

"  Yes." 

Dantes  looked  upon  him  with  admiration ;  some  doubt, 
however,  still  lingered  in  his  mind,  which  was  quickly 
perceived  by  the  penetrating  eye  of  the  abbe. 

"  When  you  pay  me  a  visit  in  my  cell,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
show  you  an  entire  work,  the  fruits  of  the  thoughts  and 
reflections  of  my  whole  life,  — formed  in  the  ruins  of  the 
Coliseum  of  Rome,  at  the  foot  of  St.  Mark's  column  at 
Venice,  and  on  the  borders  of  the  Arno  at  Florence.  I 
did  not  anticipate  that  sometime  my  jailers  would  give 
me  leisure  to  write  them  out  within  the  walls  of  the  Cha- 
teau d'If.  The  work  I  speak  of  is  called  *  A  Treatise  on 
the  Practicability  of  forming  Italy  into  one  General  Mon- 
archy,' and  will  make  one  large  quarto  volume." 

"And  on  what  have  you  written  all  this?" 

"  On  two  of  my  shirts.  I  invented  a  preparation  that 
makes  linen  as  smooth  and  as  easy  to  write  on  as 
parchment." 

"  You  are,  then,  a  chemist  1 " 

"  Somewhat ;  I  knew  Lavoisier,  and  was  the  intimate 
friend  of  Cabanis." 


A  LEARNED  ITALIAN.  195 

"  But  for  such  a  work  you  must  have  needed  books ; 
had  you  any  1 " 

"  I  possessed  nearly  five  thousand  volumes  in  my  library 
at  Rome  ;  but  after  reading  them  over  many  times,  I  found 
out  that  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  well-chosen  books  a 
man  possesses  a  complete  analysis  of  all  human  knowledge, 
or  at  least  all  that  is  either  useful  or  desirable  to  be  ac- 
quainted with.  I  devoted  three  years  of  my  life  to  read- 
ing and  studying  these  one  hundred  and  fifty  volumes,  till 
I  knew  them  nearly  by  heart ;  so  that  since  I  have  been 
in  prison,  a  very  slight  effort  of  memory  has  enabled  me  to 
recall  their  contents  as  readily  as  though  the  pages  were 
open  before  me.  I  could  recite  to  you  the  whole  of  Thu- 
cydides,  Xenophon,  Plutarch,  Titus  Livius,  Tacitus,  Strada, 
Jornand^s,  Dante,  Montaigne,  Shakspeare,  Spinosa,  Machi- 
avel,  and  Bossuet.  I  name  only  the  most  important 
writers." 

*•'  You  must  be  acquainted,  then,  with  several 
languages  ]  " 

"  Yes,  I  speak  five  of  the  modern  tongues ;  that  is  to 
say,  German,  French,  Italian,  English,  and  Spanish.  By 
the  aid  of  ancient  Greek  I  learned  modern  Greek ;  I 
don't  speak  it  so  well  as  I  could  wish,  but  I  am  now 
studying  it." 

"You  are  studying  it  1"  repeated  Dantes. 

"Yes,  I  made  a  vocabulary  of  the  words  I  knew, 
turned,  re-turned,  and  arranged  them,  so  as  to  enable  me 
to  express  my  thoughts  with  them.  I  know  about  one 
thousand  words,  all  that  are  absolutely  necessary,  although 
I  believe  there  are  nearly  one  hundred  thousand  in  the 
dictionaries.  I  cannot  hope  to  be  very  fluent,  but  I  shall 
be  able  to  make  myself  understood,  and  that  is  enough." 

Stronger  grew  the  wonder  of  Dantes,  who  almost  fancied 
he  had  to  do  with  one  gifted  with  supernatural  powers ; 


196  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

still,  hoping  to  find  some  imperfection  which  might  bring 
him  down  to  a  level  with  human  beings,  he  added,  "  But 
if  you  were  not  furnished  with  pens,  how  did  you  manage 
to  write  the  work  you  speak  of  ] " 

"  I  made  myself  some  excellent  ones,  which  would  be 
universally  preferred  to  all  others  if  once  known.  You 
are  aware  what  huge  whitings  are  served  to  us  on  fast- 
days.  Well,  I  selected  the  cartilages  of  the  heads  of  these 
fishes,  and  you  can  scarcely  imagine  the  delight  with 
which  I  welcomed  the  arrival  of  each  Wednesday,  Friday, 
and  Saturday,  as  affording  me  the  means  of  increasing  my 
stock  of  pens,  —  for  I  will  freely  confess  that  my  historical 
labors  have  been  my  greatest  solace  and  relief.  While  re- 
tracing the  past,  1  forget  the  present ;  and  while  coursing 
through  history,  free  and  independent,  I  remember  no 
longer  that  I  am  a  prisoner." 

"But  the  ink,"  said  Dant^s,  "how  have  you  procured 
that?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  Faria.  "  There  was  formerly 
a  fireplace  in  my  dungeon,  but  closed  up  long  ere  I  be- 
came an  occupant  of  this  prison.  Still,  it  must  have  been, 
many  years  in  use,  for  it  was  thickly  covered  with  a  coat- 
ing of  soot ;  this  soot  I  dissolved  in  a  portion  of  the  wine 
brought  to  me  every  Sunday,  and  I  assure  you  a  better 
ink  cannot  be  desired.  For  very  important  notes,  in- 
tended to  attract  special  observation,  I  have  pricked  one 
of  my  fingers,  and  written  with  my  blood." 

"  And  when,"  asked  Dantes,  "  will  you  show  me  all  this  ? " 

"  Whenever  you  please,"  replied  the  abbe. 

"  Oh,  then  let  it  be  directly  ! "  exclaimed  the  young 
man. 

"Follow  me,  then,"  said  the  abbe,  as  he  re-entered 
the  subterranean  passage,  in  which  he  soon  disappeared. 
Dantes  followed  him. 


THE  ABBE'S   CHAMBER.  197 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE   ABBE'S   CHAMBER. 

After  having  passed  with  tolerable  ease  through  the  sub- 
terranean passage,  which,  however,  did  not  admit  of  their 
holding  themselves  erect,  the  two  friends  reached  the 
farther  end  of  the  corridor,  into  which  the  cell  of  the 
abbe  opened ;  from  that  point  the  opening  became  much 
narrower,  barely  permitting  one  to  creep  through  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  The  floor  of  the  abbe's  cell  was  paved, 
and  it  had  been  by  raising  one  of  the  stones  in  the  most 
obscure  corner  that  Faria  had  been  able  to  commence  the 
laborious  task  of  which  Dantes  had  witnessed  the  com- 
pletion. As  he  entered  the  chamber  of  his  friend,  Dantes 
cast  around  one  eager  and  searching  glance  in  quest  of 
the  expected  marvels,  but  nothing  more  than  common 
met  his  view. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  abbe  ;  "  we  have  some  hours  be- 
fore us,  —  it  is  now  just  a  quarter  past  twelve  o'clock." 

Instinctively  Dantes  turned  round  to  observe  by  what 
watch  or  clock  the  abbe  had  been  able  so  accurately  to 
specify  the  hour. 

"  Look  at  this  ray  of  light  which  enters  by  my  window," 
said  the  abb^,  "  and  then  observe  the  lines  traced  on  the 
wall.  Well,  by  means  of  these  lines,  which  are  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  double  motion  of  the  earth,  as  w^ell  as 
the  ellipse  it  describes  round  the  sun,  I  am  enabled  to 
ascertain  the  precise  hour  with  more  minuteness  than  if  I 
possessed  a  watch  ;    for  that  might  be  broken  or  deranged 


198  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

in  its  movements,  while  the  sun  and  earth  are  never  out 
of  order." 

This  last  explanation  was  wholly  lost  upon  Dantes,  who 
had  always  imagined,  from  seeing  the  sun  rise  from  be- 
hind the  mountains  and  set  in  the  Mediterranean,  that  it 
moved,  and  not  the  earth.  A  double  movement  in  the 
globe  he  inhabited,  and  of  which  he  could  feel  nothing, 
appeared  to  him  almost  impossible ;  still,  though  unable 
to  comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  his  companion's  allu- 
sions, each  word  that  fell  from  his  lips  seemed  fraught 
with  the  wonders  of  science,  as  admirably  deserving  of  be- 
ing brought  fully  to  light  as  were  the  glittering  treasures 
he  could  just  recollect  having  visited  during  his  earliest 
youth  in  a  voyage  he  made  to  Guzerat  and  Golconda. 

"  Come,"  said  he  to  the  abbe,  "  show  me  the  wonderful 
inventions  you  told  me  of;  I  am  all  impatience  to  behold 
them." 

The  abbe  smiled,  and  proceeding  to  the  disused  fire- 
place, raised  by  the  help  of  his  chisel  a  long  stone,  which 
had  doubtless  been  the  hearth,  beneath  which  was  a  cavity 
of  considerable  depth,  serving  as  a  safe  depository  of  the 
articles  mentioned  to  Dantes. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  see  first  1 "  asked  the  abb6. 

"  Show  me  your  great  work  on  monarchy  in  Italy." 

Faria  then  drew  forth  from  his  hiding-place  three  or 
four  rolls  of  linen,  laid  one  over  the  other,  like  the  folds 
of  papyrus  found  in  mummy-cases.  These  rolls  consisted 
(>f  slips  of  cloth  about  four  inches  wide  and  eighteen  long ; 
they  were  all  carefully  numbered  and  closely  covered  with 
writing,  so  legible  that  Dantes  could  easily  read  it,  as  well 
as  make  out  the  sense,  —  it  being  in  Italian,  a  language- 
which  he,  as  a  Proven9al,  perfectly  understood. 

"  There  !  "  said  he,  "  there  is  the  work  complete  ;  I 
wrote  the  word  'finis  '  at  the  end  of  the  sixty-eighth  strip 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  199 

about  a  week  ago.  I  have  torn  up  two  of  my  shirts  and 
all  my  handkerchiefs,  to  complete  the  precious  pages. 
Should  I  ever  get  out  of  prison  and  find  a  printer  cour- 
ageous enough  to  publish  what  I  have  composed,  my  repu- 
tation is  made." 

*'  I  see,"  answered  Dantes.  "  Now  let  me  behold  the 
pens  with  which  you  have  written  your  work." 

"  Look !  "  said  Faria,  showing  to  the  young  man  a 
slender  stick  about  six  inches  long,  and  much  resem- 
bling in  size  the  handle  of  a  fine  painting-brush,  to  the 
end  of  which  was  tied  by  a  piece  of  thread  one  of  those 
cartilages  of  which  the  abbe  had  before  spoken  to  Dantes  ; 
it  was  pointed  and  divided  at  the  nib  like  an  ordinary 
pen.  Dantes  examined  it  and  looked  around  for  the 
instrument  with  which  it  had  been  shaped  so  correctly 
into  form. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Faria,  "  you  are  wondering  where  I 
found  ray  penknife  ]  It  is  my  masterpiece  ;  I  made  it, 
as  well  as  this  knife,  out  of  an  old  iron  candlestick." 
The  penknife  was  sharp  and  keen  as  a  razor ;  as  for  the 
other  knife,  it  possessed  the  double  advantage  of  being 
capable  of  serving  either  as  a  dagger  or  a  knife. 

Dantes  examined  the  various  articles  shown  to  him  with 
the  same  attention  he  had  bestowed  on  the  curiosities  and 
strange  tools  exhibited  in  the  shops  at  Marseilles  as  the 
works  of  the  savages  in  the  South  Seas,  whence  they  had 
been  brought  by  the  sea-captains. 

"  As  for  the  ink,"  said  Faria,  "  T  told  you  how  I  man- 
aged to  obtain  that;  I  make  it  from  time  to  time,  as  I 
require  it." 

"There  is  one  thing  that  puzzles  me  still,"  observed 
Dantes,  "  and  that  is  how  you  managed  to  do  all  this 
by  daylight." 

"  I  worked  at  night  also,"  replied  Faria. 


200  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 

"  Night !  are  your  eyes  like  cats',  that  you  can  see  to 
work  in  the  dark  1 " 

"  Indeed  they  are  not ;  hut  God  has  supplied  man  with 
intelligence  to  supplement  the  poverty  of  the  senses;  I 
provided  myself  with  light." 

*'  You  did  ]     Pray  tell  me  how  !  " 

"  I  separated  the  fat  from  the  meat  served  to  me,  melted 
it,  and  made  a  most  capital  oil;  here  is  my  lamp."  So 
saying,  the  abbe  exhibited  a  sort  of  vessel  very  similar  to 
those  omploj'ed  upon  the  occasion  of  public  illuminations. 

"  But  how  do  you  procure  a  light  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  here  are  two  flints  and  a  morsel  of  burnt  linen." 

"  And  your  matches  ? " 

*'  Were  easily  prepared.  I  feigned  a  disorder  of  the 
skin,  and  asked  for  a  little  sulphur,  which  was  readily 
supplied." 

Dantes  laid  gently  on  the  table  the  different  things  he 
had  been  looking  at,  and  stood  with  his  head  drooping  on 
his  breast,  overwhelmed  by  such  perseverance  and  energy 
of  character. 

"You  have  not  seen  all  yet,"  continued  Faria,  "for  I 
did  not  think  it  wise  to  trust  all  my  treasures  in  the  same 
hiding-place.     Let  us  close  this." 

Dantes  helped  him  to  replace  the  stone  as  they  first 
found  it ;  the  abbe  sprinkled  a  little  dust  over  it  to  con- 
ceal the  traces  of  its  removal,  rubbed  his  foot  well  on  it  to 
make  it  assume  the  same  appearance  as  the  other,  and 
then  going  towards  his  bed,  he  removed  it  from  the  spot 
where  it  stood.  Behind  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  con- 
cealed by  a  stone  fitting  in  so  closely  as  to  defy  all  sus- 
picion, was  a  hollow  space,  and  in  this  space  a  ladder 
of  cords,  between  twenty-five  and  thirty  feet  in  length. 
Dantes  closely  and  eagerly  examined  it.  He  found  it 
firm,  solid,  and  compact  enough  to  bear  any  weight. 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  201 

"  Who  supplied  you  with  the  cord  you  needed  in  mak- 
ing this  wonderful  work  1 "  asked  Dantes. 

"  No  one  but  myself.  I  tore  up  several  of  my  shirts 
and  unravelled  the  sheets  of  my  bed  during  my  three 
years'  imprisonment  at  Fenestrelle ;  and  when  I  was  re- 
moved to  the  Chateau  d'lf,  I  managed  to  bring  the  ravel- 
lings  with  me,  so  that  I  have  been  able  to  finish  my  work 
here." 

"And  w^as  it  not  discovered  that  your  sheets  were 
unhemmed  1  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  for  when  I  had  taken  out  the  thread  I 
required,  I  hemmed  the  edges  over  again." 

"  With  what  1 " 

"With  this  needle,"  said  the  abbe,  as  opening  his 
ragged  vestments  he  showed  Dantes  a  long  sharp  fish- 
bone, with  a  small  perforated  eye  for  the  thread,  a  smaU 
portion  of  which  still  remained  in  it.  "  I  once  thought," 
continued  Faria,  "  of  removing  these  iron  bars,  and  letting 
myself  down  from  the  window,  which,  as  you  see,  is  some- 
what wider  than  yours,  although  I  should  have  enlarged 
it  still  more  preparatory  to  my  flight ;  however,  I  discov- 
ered that  I  should  merely  have  dropped  into  a  sort  of 
inner  court,  and  I  therefore  renounced  the  project  alto- 
gether as  too  full  of  risk  and  danger.  Nevertheless,  I 
carefully  preserved  my  ladder  against  one  of  those  unfore- 
seen opportunities  of  which  I  spoke  just  now,  and  which 
sudden  chance  frequently  brings  about." 

While  affecting  to  be  deeply  engaged  in  examining  the 
ladder,  the  mind  of  Dantes  was  in  fact  busily  occupied 
by  the  idea  tliat  a  person  so  intelligent,  ingenious,  and 
clear-sighted  as  the  abbe  might  perhaps  be  able  to  clear 
up  the  mystery  of  his  own  misfortunes,  which  he  had  in 
vain  endeavored  to  penetrate. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  asked  the  abbe,  smil- 


202  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

iugly,  imputing  the  deep  abstraction  in  which  his  visitor 
was  plunged  to  the  excess  of  his  awe  and  wonder. 

"  I  was  reflecting,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  Dantes, 
"  upon  the  enormous  degree  of  intelligence  and  ability 
you  must  have  employed  to  attain  to  these  achievements. 
What  would  you  not  have  accomplished  had  you  been  free  1 " 

"Nothing,  perhaps;  the  overflow  of  my  brain  would 
have  evaporated  in  futilities.  Trouble  is  needed  to  de- 
velop the  mines  of  human  intelligence.  Pressure  is  re- 
quired to  ignite  powder  ;  captivity  has  collected  into  one 
single  focus  all  the  floating  faculties  of  my  mind.  They 
have  come  into  close  contact  in  a  narrow  space ;  and,  you 
know,  from  the  collision  of  clouds  comes  electricity ;  from 
electricity,  lightning ;  from  lightning,  illumination." 

"  No,  I  know  nothing,"  said  Dantes,  humiliated  by  his 
ignorance.  "  Some  of  the  words  you  liave  used  are  to  me 
words  without  sense.  You  must  be  very  happy  in  know- 
ing so  much." 

The  abb^  smiled.  "Well,"  said  he,  "but  you  had 
another  subject  for  your  thoughts  besides  admiration  for 
me  ;  did  you  not  say  so  just  now  1 " 

"  I  did." 

"You  have  told  me  as  yet  but  one  of  them;  let  me 
hear  the  other." 

"  It  was  this  :  that  while  you  have  related  to  me  your 
history,  you  are  unacquainted  with  mine." 

"Your  life,  my  young  friend,  has  not  been  of  sufficient 
length  to  include  any  very  important  events." 

"It  includes  an  immense  calamity,"  said  Dantes, —  "a 
calamity  which  I  have  not  deserved  ;  and  that  I  may  no 
longer  curse  God,  as  I  sometimes  have,  I  wish  to  refer  ray 
wretchedness  to  the  men  who  are  responsible  for  it." 

"  Then  you  profess  to  be  innocent  of  the  crime  with 
which  you  are  cliarged  1 " 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  203 

"Entirely  innocent;  I  swear  by  the  two  beings  most 
dear  to  me  upon  earth,  —  my  father  and  Mercedes." 

"  Come,"  said  the  abbe,  closing  his  hiding-place  and 
pushing  the  bed  back  to  its  original  situation,  "let  me 
hear  your  story." 

Dantes  obeyed,  and  commenced  what  he  called  his  his- 
tory, which  consisted  only  of  the  account  of  a  voyage  to 
India,  and  two  or  three  in  the  Levant,  until  he  arrived  at 
the  recital  of  his  last  cruise ;  the  death  of  Captain  Leclere  ; 
the  receipt  of  a  packet  to  be  delivered  by  himself  to  tlie 
grand-marshal;  his  interview  with  that  personage,  and  his 
receiving,  in  place  of  the  packet  brought,  a  letter  addressed 
to  M.  Noirtier ;  his  arrival  at  Marseilles  and  interview 
with  his  father ;  his  love  for  Mercedes  and  their  nuptial 
fete ;  his  arrest  and  subsequent  examination  in  the  tempo- 
rary prison  of  the  Palais  de  Justice ;  and  finally,  his  im- 
prisonment in  the  Chateau  d'If.  From  the  period  of  his 
arrival  all  was  a  blank  to  Dantes ;  he  knew  nothing,  not 
even  the  length  of  time  he  had  been  imprisoned.  His 
recital  finished,  the  abbe  reflected  long  and  earnestly. 

"  There  is,"  said  hp,  at  the  end  of  his  meditations,  "  a 
clever  maxim,  which  bears  upon  what  I  was  saying  to 
you  a  little  while  ago,  and  that  is,  that  save  where  wick- 
edness originates  in  a  distorted  organization,  human  na- 
ture revolts  at  crime.  Still,  from  an  artificial  civilization 
have  sprung  wants,  vices,  and  false  tastes,  which  occasion- 
ally become  so  powerful  as  to  stifle  within  us  all  good 
feelings,  and  ultimately  to  lead  us  into  guilt  and  wicked- 
ness. Hence  the  maxim  :  If  you  wish  to  discover  the 
author  of  any  bad  action,  seek  first  to  discover  the  person 
to  whom  the  perpetration  of  that  bad  action  might  be 
profitable.  To  whom  could  your  disappearance  have  been 
serviceable  ] " 

"  My  God  !  to  no  one,     I  was  so  insignificant." 


204  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO, 

"Do  not  speak  thus,  for  your  reply  lacks  at  the  same 
time  logic  and  philosophy.  Everything  is  relative,  my 
dear  friend,  from  the  king  who  is  in  the  way  of  his  suc- 
cessor to  the  employee  who  is  in  the  way  of  his  substitute. 
Jf  the  king  dies,  his  successor  inherits  a  crown ;  if  the 
employee  dies,  the  substitute  steps  into  his  shoes,  and 
receives  his  salary  of  twelve  thousand  livres.  Well,  these 
twelve  thousand  livres  are  his  civil  list,  and  are  as  essen- 
tial to  him  as  the  twelve  millions  to  a  king.  Every  indi- 
vidual, from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  degree,  has  his  place 
in  the  ladder  of  social  life,  and  around  him  are  grouped  a 
little  world  of  interests,  composed  of  vortices  and  hooked 
atoms,  like  the  worlds  of  Descartes.  But  these  worlds  are 
always  larger  in  proportion  to  their  elevation.  They  con- 
stitute an  inverted  spiral,  which  rests  on  its  point  by  a 
trick  of  equilibrium.  But  let  us  return  to  your  world. 
You  say  you  were  on  the  point  of  being  appointed  captain 
of  the  *  Pharaon  1 '  " 

"  I  was." 

"And  about  to  become  the  husband  of  a  young  and 
lovely  girl  1 " 

"  True." 

"  Now,  could  any  one  have  had  any  interest  in  prevent- 
ing the  accomplishment  of  these  two  events  ]  Was  it  for 
any  one's  interest  that  you  should  not  be  captain  of  the 
'  rharaon '  1 " 

"  No  ;  I  was  generally  liked  on  board,  and  had  the 
sailors  possessed  the  right  of  selecting  a  captain  them- 
selves, I  am  sure  they  would  have  chosen  me.  There  was 
only  one  man  who  had  any  feeling  of  ill-will  towards  me. 
I  liad  quarrelled  with  him  some  time  previously,  and  had 
even  challenged  him  to  fight  me ;  but  he  had  refused." 

"  Now  we  are  getting  on.  And  what  was  this  man's 
name  1 " 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  205 

"Danglars." 

"  What  rank  did  he  hold  on  board  1 " 

"  He  was  supercargo." 

"  And  had  you  been  captain,  should  you  have  retained 
him  in  his  employment  ?  " 

"  Not  if  the  choice  had  remained  with  me,  for  I  had 
frequently  observed  inaccuracies  in  his  accounts." 

"  Good  again  !  Now  then,  tell  me,  was  any  person 
present  during  your  last  conversation  with  Captain 
Leclere  1  " 

"  No,  we  were  quite  alone." 

"  Could  your  conversation  be  overheard  by  any  one  ] " 

"It  might,  for  the  cabin  door  was  open,  and — stay; 
now  I  recollect  —  Danglars  himself  passed  by  just  as 
Captain  Leclere  was  giving  me  the  packet  for  the  grand- 
marshal." 

"That  will  do,"  cried  the  abbe;  "now  we  are  on  the 
right  scent.  Did  you  take  anybody  ashore  with  you  when 
you  put  into  the  port  of  Elba  ] " 

"  Nobody." 

"Somebody  there  gave  you  a  letter'?" 

"  Yes  ;  the  grand-marshal  did." 

"And  what  did  you  do  with  that  letter  1  " 

"Put  it  into  my  pocket-book." 

"You  had  your  pocket-book  with  you,  then?  Now, 
how  could  a  pocket-book,  large  enough  to  contain  an 
official  letter,  find  sufficient  room  in  the  pockets  of  a 
sailor]" 

"  You  are  right :  my  pocket-book  was  left  on  board." 

"Then  it  was  only  on  your  return  to  the  ship  that  you 
placed  the  letter  in  the  pocket-book  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  this  letter  while  returning 
from  Porto  Ferrajo  to  your  vessel  1 " 


206  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"I  carried  it  in  my  hand." 

"So  that  when  you  went  on  board  the  'Pharaon/ 
everybody  could  perceive  you  held  a  letter  in  your 
hand?" 

"  To  be  sure  they  could." 

"  Danglars,  as  well  as  the  rest  1 " 

"  Yes ;  he  as  well  as  others." 

"Now,  listen  to  me,  and  try  to  recall  every  circum- 
stance attending  your  arrest.  Do  you  recollect  the  words 
in  which  the  information  against  you  was  couched  1" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  read  it  over  three  times,  and  the  words 
sank  deeply  into  my  memory." 

"  Repeat  it  to  me." 

Dantes  paused  a  few  instants,  as  though  collecting  his 
ideas,  then  said,  "  This  is  it,  word  for  word  :  *  The  jyrocu- 
reur  du  roi  is  informed  by  a  friend  of  the  throne  and  of 
religion,  that  one  Edmond  Dantes,  mate  of  the  ship  "Pha- 
raon,"  who  arrived  this  morning  from  Smyrna,  after  hav- 
ing touched  at  Naples  and  Porto  Ferrajo,  has  been  in- 
trusted by  Murat  with  a  letter  for  the  usurper,  and  by  the 
usurper  with  a  letter  for  the  Bonapartist  committee  in 
Paris,  Proof  of  this  crime  will  be  found  on  arresting 
him,  for  the  letter  will  be  found  upon  him,  or  at  his 
father's,  or  in  his  cabin  on  board  the  "  Pharaon."  '" 

The  abbe  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  The  thing  is  clear 
as  day,"  said  he ;  "  and  you  must  have  had  a  very  unsus- 
pecting nature,  as  well  as  a  good  heart,  not  to  have  sus- 
pected the  origin  of  the  whole  affair." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  1  Ah,  that  would  indeed  be 
the  treachery  of  a  villain." 

"How  did  Danglars  usually  write?" 

"  A  handsome  running  hand." 

"  And  how  was  the  anonymous  letter  written  1 " 

"  With  a  backward  slant." 


THE  abbe's  chamber.  207 

Again  the  abbe  smiled.  "  In  fact,  it  was  a  disguised 
hand ]  "     . 

"  I  don't  know ;  it  was  very  boldly  written,  if 
disguised." 

*'  Stop  a  bit,"  said  the  abbe.  He  took  up  what  he 
called  his  pen  and  after  dipping  it  into  the  ink,  wrote  on 
a  morsel  of  prepared  linen  with  his  left  hand  the  first  two 
or  three  words  of  the  accusation.  Dantes  drew  back,  and 
gazed  on  the  abbe  with  a  sensation  almost  amounting  to 
terror. 

"  How  very  astonishing  !  "  cried  he,  at  length.  "  Why, 
your  writing  exactly  resembles  that  of  the  accusation  !  " 

"  Simply  because  that  accusation  had  been  written  with 
the  left  hand  ;  and  I  have  always  remarked  one  thing  —  " 

"  What  is  that  ? " 

"  That  whereas  all  writings  done  with  the  right  hand 
are  dissimilar,  those  performed  with  the  left  hand  invari- 
ably resemble  each  other." 

"  You  have  evidently  seen  and  observed  everything." 

"  Let  us  proceed." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  let  us  go  on." 

"  Now  as  regards  the  second  question.  Was  there  any 
person  who  might  be  interested  in  preventing  your  mar- 
riage with  Mercedes  1 " 

"Yes,  a  young  man  who  loved  her." 

"And  his  name  was  —  " 

"  Fernand." 

"  That  is  a  Spanish  name." 

"  He  was  a  Catalan." 

"Do  you  think  that  he  was  capable  of  writing  the 
letter  1 " 

"  Oh,  no  I  he  would  more  likely  have  got  rid  of  me 
by  sticking  a  knife  into  me." 

"  That  is  in  strict  accordance  with  the  Spanish  char- 


208  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

acter;  an  assassination  they  "will  unhesitatingly  commit, 
but  an  act  of  cowardice,  never." 

"  Besides,"  said  Dantes,  "  the  various  circumstances 
mentioned  in  the  letter  were  wholly  unknown  to  him." 

"  You  had  never  spoken  of  them  yourself  to  any 
one  ? " 

"  To  no  person  whatever." 

"  IS'ot  even  to  your  mistress?  " 

"  No,  not  even  to  my  betrothed  bride." 

"  Then  it  is  Danglars,  beyond  a  doubt." 

"I  feel  quite  sure  of  it  now." 

"  Wait  a  little.  Was  Danglars  at  all  acquainted  with 
Fernand  1 " 

"  No  ;  yes,  he  was.     Now  I  recollect  —  " 

"What?"  — 

**  I  saw  them  both  sitting  at  table  together  beneath 
an  arbor  at  Pere  Pamphile's  the  evening  before  the  day 
fixed  for  my  wedding.  They  were  in  earnest  conversa- 
tion. Danglars  was  joking  in  a  friendly  way,  but  Fer- 
nand looked  pale  and  agitated." 

"  Were  they  alone  1" 

"There  was  a  third  person  with  them  whom  I  knew 
well,  and  who  had  in  all  probability  made  tlieir  acquaint- 
ance, —  a  tailor  named  Caderousse  ;  but  he  was  already 
quite  intoxicated.  Stay !  stay  !  How  strange  that  it 
should  not  have  occurred  to  me  before  !  On  the  table 
round  which  they  were  sitting  were  pens,  ink,  and  paper. 
Oh,  the  heartless,  treacherous  scoundrels  ! "  exclaimed 
Dantes,  pressing  his  hand  to  his  throbbing  brows. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  you  would  like  to  know  1 " 
asked  the  abbe,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Dantes,  eagerly ;  "  T  would  beg  of 
you,  who  see  so  completely  to  the  depths  of  things,  and 
to  whom  the  greatest  mystery  seems  but  an  easy  riddle,  to 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  209 

explain  to  me  why  I  had  no  second  examination,  why  I 
was  never  brought  to  trial,  and,  above  all,  why  I  was  con- 
demned without  process  1 " 

"  That  is  altogether  a  different  and  more  serious  matter," 
responded  the  abbe.  "The  ways  of  justice  are  frequently 
too  dark  and  mysterious  to  be  easily  penetrated.  All  we 
have  hitherto  done  in  the  matter  has  been  child's  play. 
If  you  wish  me  to  enter  upon  the  more  difficult  part  of 
the  business,  you  must  assist  me  by  the  most  minute  in- 
formation on  every  point." 

"  That  I  will  gladly.  So  pray  begin,  my  dear  abbe,  and 
ask  me  whatever  questions  you  please  ;  for  in  good  truth 
you  see  more  clearly  into  my  life  than  I  do  myself" 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  who  examined  you,  —  the  pro- 
cureur  du  roi,  his  deputy,  or  a  magistrate  ]  " 

"  The  deputy." 

"  Was  he  young  or  old  1 " 

"  About  twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  I 
should  say." 

"  To  be  sure,"  answered  the  abbe,  —  "  not  yet  corrupt, 
but  already  ambitious.     And  how  did  he  treat  you  1 " 

"  With  more  of  mildness  than  severity." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  your  whole  story  ]  '* 

"  I  did." 

"  And  did  his  conduct  change  at  all  in  the  course  of 
your  examination]" 

"  Yes ;  certainly  he  did  appear  much  disturbed  when 
he  read  the  letter  that  had  brought  me  into  this  scrape. 
He  seemed  quite  overcome  at  the  thoughts  of  the  dan- 
ger I  was  in." 

"You  were  in  1 " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  you  feel  very  sure  that  it  was  your  misfortune 
that  he  regretted]" 

VOL.    I.  —  14 


210  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Why,  he  gave  me  one  great  proof  of  his  sympathy,  at 
least." 

"  And  what  was  that  1  " 

"  He  burned  the  sole  proof  that  could  at  all  have  crimi- 
nated me." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  letter  of  accusation  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  the  letter  that  I  was  intrusted  to  convey  to 
Paris." 

"  Are  you  sure  he  burned  it  1 " 

"  He  did  so  before  my  eyes." 

"  Ay,  indeed  !  that  alters  the  case.  That  man  might  be 
a  greater  scoundrel  than  you  think." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Dantes,  "  you  make  me  shudder. 
Is  the  world  indeed  peopled  by  tigers  and  crocodiles  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  the  two-legged  tigers  and  crocodiles  are  more 
dangerous  than  others." 

"  Let  us  go  on." 

*'  With  all  my  heart !  You  tell  me  he  burned  the  letter 
in  your  presence  1 " 

"  He  did,  —  saying  at  the  same  time,  '  You  see  I  thus 
destroy  the  only  proof  existing  against  you.'  " 

"  This  action  is  somewhat  too  sublime  to  be  natural." 

"  You  think  so  1  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.     To  whom  was  this  letter  addressed  1 " 

"  To  M.  Noirtier,  No.  13  Rue  Coq-He'ron,  Paris." 

"  Now  can  you  think  of  any  interest  that  your  deputy 
proc2ireitr  could  have  had  in  the  destruction  of  that 
letter  1 " 

"  Why,  it  is  not  altogether  impossible  he  might  have 
had,  for  he  made  me  promise  several  times  never  to  speak 
of  that  letter  to  any  one,  assuring  me  that  he  so  advised 
me  for  my  own  interest ;  and  more  than  this,  he  insisted 
on  my  taking  a  solemn  oath  never  to  utter  the  name 
written  in  the  address." 


THE  ABBE'S   CHAMBER.  211 

"  Noirtier  !  "  repeated  the  abbe,  —  "  I^oirtier !  I  knew  a 
person  of  that  name  at  the  court  of  the  Queen  of  Etruria, 
—  a  Noirtier  who  had  been  a  Girondin  during  the  Revo- 
lution !     What  was  the  name  of  your  deputy  1  " 

"  Villefort." 

The  abbe  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  while  Dant^s 
gazed  on  him  in  utter  astonishment. 

"  What  ails  you  1 "  said  he,  at  length. 

"  Do  you  see  this  ray  of  light  1 " 

"I  do." 

"  Well !  I  see  my  way  into  the  full  meaning  of  all  the 
proceedings  against  you  more  clearly  than  you  even  dis- 
cern that  sunbeam.  Poor  fellow !  poor  young  man  ! 
And  you  tell  me  this  magistrate  expressed  great  sym- 
pathy and  commiseration  for  youl" 

"He  did." 

"And  the  worthy  man  destroyed  your  compromising 
letter?" 

"  He  burned  it  before  me." 

"  That  honest  purveyor  for  the  scaffold  made  you 
swear  never  to  utter  the  name  of  Noirtier  1  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Why,  you  poor  short-sighted  simpleton,  do  you  know 
who  this  Noirtier  was  ]  " 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not !  " 

"  That  Noirtier  was  his  father  ! " 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  the  feet  of  Dantes,  or  hell 
opened  its  yawning  gulf  before  him,  he  could  not  have 
been  more  completely  transfixed  with  horror  than  at  the 
sound  of  words  so  wholly  unexpected,  revealing  as  they 
did  the  fiendish  perfidy  which  had  consigned  him  to  wear 
out  his  days  in  the  dark  cell  of  a  prison  that  was  to  him 
as  a  living  grave.  Starting  up,  he  clasped  his  hands 
around  his  head  as  though  to  prevent  his  very  brain  from 


212  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

bursting,  as  in  a  choked  and  almost  inarticulate  voice  lie 
exclaimed,    "  His  father  !   his  father  !  " 

"  His  own  father,"  replied  the  abbe,  "  whose  name  is 
Noirtier  de  Villefort." 

At  this  instant,  a  bright  light  shot  through  the  mind  of 
Dantes,  and  cleared  up  all  that  had  been  dark  and  obscure 
before.  The  change  that  had  come  over  Villefort  during 
the  examination,  the  destruction  of  the  letter,  the  exacted 
promise,  the  almost  supplicating  tones  of  the  magistrate, 
who  seemed  rather  to  implore  mercy  than  denounce  pun- 
ishment, —  all  returned  to  his  memory.  A  cry  of  mental 
agony  escaped  his  lips,  and  he  staggered  against  the  wall 
almost  like  a  drunken  man ;  then,  as  the  paroxysm  passed 
away,  he  hurried  to  the  opening  conducting  from  the  abbe's 
cell  to  his  own,  and  said,  "  Oh !  I  must  be  alone  to  think 
over  all  this." 

When  he  regained  his  dungeon,  he  threw  himself  on  his 
bed,  where  the  turnkey  found  him  at  his  evening  visit, 
sitting  with  fixed  gaze  and  contracted  features,  still  and 
motionless  as  a  statue.  During  those  hours  of  medita- 
tion, which  to  him  had  seemed  but  as  minutes,  he  had 
formed  a  fearful  resolution,  and  bound  himself  to  its  ful- 
filment by  a  solemn  oath.  Dantes  was  at  length  roused 
from  his  revery  by  the  voice  of  Faria,  who,  having  also 
been  visited  by  his  jailer,  had  come  to  invite  his  feUow- 
suflferer  to  share  his  supper.  In  his  character  as  madman, 
and  especially  as  an  amusing  madman,  the  abbe  enjoyed 
certain  privileges.  He  was  supplied  with  bread  of  a  finer, 
whiter  description  than  the  usual  prison  fare,  and  even 
regaled  each  Sunday  with  a  small  quantity  of  wine.  The 
present  day  chanced  to  be  Sunday;  and  the  abbe  came 
to  invite  his  young  companion  to  share  his  bread  and 
wine.  Dantes  followed  him  with  a  firm  and  assured  step. 
His  features  had  lost  their  almost  spasmodic  contraction, 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  213 

and  now  wore  their  usual  expression ;  but  he  had  acquired 
a  certain  rigidity  and  sternness  which  announced  the 
forming  of  a  deep  and  settled  purpose.  Faria  bent  on 
him  his  penetrating  eye.  "  I  regret  now,"  said  he,  "  hav- 
ing helped  you  in  your  late  inquiries,  or  having  given 
you  the  information  I  did." 

"  Why  so  1 "  inquired  Dantes. 

"  Because  it  has  instilled  a  new  passion  in  your  heart, 
—  that  of  vengeance." 

A  bitter  smile  played  over  the  features  of  the  young 
man.     "  Let  us  talk  of  something  else,"  said  he. 

Again  the  abbe  looked  at  him,  then  mournfully  shook 
his  head;  but  in  accordance  with  Dantes's  request,  he 
began  to  speak  of  other  matters.  The  elder  prisoner  was 
one  of  those  persons  whose  conversation,  like  that  of  all 
who  have  experienced  many  trials,  contained  many  useful 
and  important  hints  as  well  as  sound  information ;  but  it 
was  never  egotistical,  for  the  unfortunate  man  never  alluded 
to  his  own  sorrows.  Dantes  listened  with  admiring  atten- 
tion to  all  he  said.  Some  of  his  remarks  corresponded 
with  what  he  already  knew,  or  applied  to  the  sort  of  knowl- 
edge his  nautical  life  had  enabled  him  to  acquire  ;  others 
related  to  things  unknown  to  him,  but  like  those  aurorse 
boreales  which  serve  to  light  the  navigators  in  northern 
latitudes,  they  sufficed  to  open  fresh  views  to  the  inquiring 
mind  of  the  listener,  and  to  give  a  glimpse  of  new  horizons 
illumined  by  the  wild  meteoric  flash.  He  justly  estimated 
the  delight  an  intelligent  mind  would  have  in  following 
that  lofty  spirit  along  the  moral,  philosophical,  or  social 
heights  where  it  found  exercise. 

"  You  must  teach  me  a  small  part  of  what  you  know," 
said  Dantes,  *'  if  only  to  prevent  your  growing  weary  of 
me.  I  can  well  believe  that  so  learned  a  person  as  your- 
self would  prefer  absolute  solitude  to  being  tormented 


214  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

■with  tlie  company  of  one  as  ignorant  and  uninformed  as 
myself.  If  you  will  only  agree  to  my  request,  I  promise 
you  never  to  mention  another  word  about  escaping." 

The  abbe  smiled.  "  Alas,  my  child  !  "  said  he,  "  human 
knowledge  is  confined  within  very  narrow  limits ;  and  when 
I  have  taught  you  mathematics,  physics,  history,  and  the 
three  or  four  modern  languages  with  which  I  am  acquainted, 
you  will  know  as  much  as  I  do  myself.  Now,  it  will  scarcely 
require  two  years  for  me  to  communicate  to  you  the  stock 
of  learning  I  possess." 

"  Two  years  ! "  exclaimed  Dantes ;  "  do  you  really  be- 
lieve I  can  acquire  all  these  things  in  so  short  a  time  1 " 

"Not  their  application,  certainly,  but  their  principles 
you  may ;  to  learn  is  not  to  know.  There  are  the  learned 
and  the  knowing.  Memory  makes  the  one,  philosophy  the 
other." 

**  But  cannot  one  learn  philosophy  1 " 

"  Philosophy  is  not  to  be  learned  ;  it  is  the  combination 
of  sciences  acquired  by  the  genius  which  applies  them. 
Philosophy,  —  it  is  the  dazzling  cloud  on  which  Christ 
placed  his  foot  to  mount  into  the  heavens." 

*'  Well,  then,"  said  Dantes,  "  what  will  you  teach  me 
first  ?     I  am  eager  to  begin ;  I  thirst  for  knowledge." 

"  Good  ! "  said  the  abbe. 

That  very  evening  the  prisoners  sketched  a  plan  of  edu- 
cation to  be  entered  upon  the  following  day.  Dantes  pos- 
sessed a  prodigious  memory  combined  with  an  astonishing 
quickness  and  readiness  of  conception.  The  mathematical 
turn  of  his  mind  rendered  him  apt  at  all  kinds  of  calcula- 
tion, w^hile  his  imagination  imbued  with  interest  the  dry 
reality  of  arithmetical  computation  or  the  rigid  severity  of 
lines.  He  already  knew  Italian,  and  had  also  picked  up 
a  little  of  the  Eomaic  dialect  on  his  voyages  to  the  East ; 
and  by  the  aid  of  these  two  languages  he  easily  compre- 


THE  ABBE'S   CHAMBER.  215 

bended  the  construction  of  all  the  others,  so  that  at  the 
end  of  six  months  he  began  to  speak  Spanish,  English, 
and  German.  In  strict  accordance  with  the  promise  made 
to  the  abbe,  Dantes  never  even  alluded  to  flight.  It  might 
have  been  that  the  delight  his  studies  afforded  him  sup- 
plied the  place  of  liberty,  or  that  the  recollection  of  his 
pledged  word  (a  point,  as  we  have  already  seen,  to  which 
he  paid  a  rigid  attention)  kept  him  from  reverting  to  any 
plan  for  escape.  The  instructive  days  passed  rapidly,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  year  Dantes  was  a  new  man. 

As  to  the  Abbe  Faria,  Dantes  remarked  that  spite  of 
the  relief  his  society  afforded,  he  daily  grew  sadder ;  one 
thought  seemed  incessantly  to  harass  and  distract  his 
mind.  Sometimes  he  would  fall  into  long  reveries,  sigh 
heavily  and  involuntarily,  then  suddenly  rise,  and  with 
folded  arms  begin  pacing  the  confined  space  of  his  dun- 
geon. One  day  he  stopped  all  at  once  in  the  midst  of 
these  so  often-repeated  promenades,  and  exclaimed,  "  Ah, 
if  there  were  no  sentinel ! " 

"There  shall  not  be  one  a  minute  longer  than  you 
please,"  said  Dantes,  who  had  followed  his  thought 
through  the  covering  of  his  brain  as  if  through  a  crystal. 

*'  Ah  !  I  have  already  told  you,"  answered  the  abbe, 
"that  I  revolt  at  murder." 

"  But  this  murder,  if  committed,  will  be  for  our  safety, 
prompted  by  the  instinct  of  self-defence." 

"  No  matter ;    I  could  never  agree  to  it." 

"  Still,  you  have  thought  of  it  1 " 

"  Incessantly,  alas  !  "  cried  the  abb^. 

"And  you  have  discovered  a  means  of  regaining  our 
freedom,  have  you  not  ? "  asked  Dantes,  eagerly. 

"  I  have  ;  if  they  should  happen  to  place  a  blind  and 
deaf  sentinel  in  the  gallery  beyond  us." 

"He  shall  be  blind,  he  shall  be  deaf!"  replied  the 


216  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

young  man,  with  an  air  of  determined  resolution  that 
made  his  companion  shudder. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  the  abhe ;  "  it  is  impossible  !  "  In 
vain  did  Dantes  endeavor  to  renew  the  subject ;  the  abbe 
shook  his  head  and  refused  any  further  conversation  re- 
specting it. 

Three  months  passed  away. 

"  Do  you  feel  yourself  strong  1 "  inquired  the  abbe  of 
Dantes.  The  young  man,  in  reply,  took  up  the  chisel, 
bent  it  into  the  form  of  a  horseshoe,  and  then  as  readily 
straightened  it. 

"  And  wiU  you  engage  not  to  do  any  harm  to  the  sen- 
try, except  in  the  last  extremity  1  " 

"Yes,  upon  honor." 

"  Then,"  said  the  abbe,  "  we  may  hope  to  put  our  de- 
sign into  execution." 

"  And  how  long  shall  we  be  in  accomplishing  the 
necessary  work  1 " 

"  At  least  a  year." 

"  And  shall  we  begin  at  once  ?  '* 

"  Directly." 

"  We  have  lost  a  year  to  no  purpose  !  "  cried  Dantes. 

"  Do  you  consider  the  last  twelve  months  as  wasted  1 " 
asked  the  abbe,  in  a  tone  of  mild  reproach. 

"  Forgive  me  !  "  cried  Edmond,  blushing. 

"  Tut,  tut ! "  answered  the  abbe  ;  "  man  is  but  man  at 
last,  and  you  are  about  the  best  specimen  of  the  genus  I 
have  ever  known.  Come,  let  me  show  you  my  plan."  The 
abbe  then  showed  Dantes  a  design  which  he  had  drawn. 
It  consisted  of  a  plan  of  his  own  cell  and  that  of  Dantes, 
with  the  corridor  which  united  them.  In  this  passage  he 
proposed  to  form  a  tunnel,  such  as  is  employed  in  mines ; 
this  tunnel  would  conduct  the  two  prisoners  immediately 
beneath  the  gallery  where  the  sentry  kept  watch.     Once 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  217 

there,  a  large  excavation  -would  he  made,  and  one  of  the 
flag-stones  with  which  the  gallery  was  paved  be  so  com- 
pletely loosened  that  at  the  desired  moment  it  would  give 
way  beneath  the  soldier's  feet,  who,  falling  into  the  exca- 
vation below,  would  be  immediately  bound  and  gagged  ere, 
stunned  by  the  effects  of  his  fall,  he  had  power  to  offer 
any  resistance.  The  prisoners  were  then  to  make  their 
way  through  one  of  the  gallery  windows,  and  to  let  them- 
selves down  from  the  outer  walls  by  means  of  the  abbe's 
ladder  of  cords.  The  eyes  of  Dantes  sparkled  with  joy, 
and  he  rubbed  his  hands  with  delight  at  the  idea  of  a  plan 
so  simple,  yet  apparently  so  certain  to  succeed. 

That  very  day  the  miners  commenced ,  their  labor,  and 
with  the  more  ardor  because  it  succeeded  to  a  long  rest  from 
fatigue,  and  was  destined,  in  all  probability,  to  fulfil  their 
dearest  wish.  Nothing  interrupted  the  progress  of  their 
work  except  the  necessity  of  returning  to  their  respective 
cells  against  the  hour  in  which  their  jailer  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  them  ;  they  had  learned  to  distinguish 
the  almost  imperceptible  sound  of  his  footsteps  as  he  de- 
scended towards  their  dungeons,  and  happily,  never  failed 
being  prepared  for  his  coming.  The  fresh  earth  excavated 
during  their  present  work,  and  which  would  have  entirely 
blocked  up  the  old  passage,  was  thrown  by  degrees  and 
with  the  utmost  precaution,  out  of  the  window  in  either 
Faria's  or  Dantes's  cell,  the  rubbish  being  first  pulverized 
so  finely  that  the  night  wind  carried  it  far  away  without 
permitting  the  smallest  trace  to  remain. 

More  than  a  year  had  been  consumed  in  this  under- 
taking, the  only  tools  for  which  had  been  a  chisel,  a  knife, 
and  a  wooden  lever,  —  Faria  stiU  continuing  to  instruct 
Dantes  by  conversing  with  him,  sometimes  in  one  lan- 
guage, sometimes  in  another;  at  others,  relating  to  him 
the  history  of  nations  and  of  the  great  men  who  from 


218  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

time  to  time  have  left  behind  them  one  of  those  bright 
tracks  called  glory.  The  abbe  was  a  man  of  tlie  world, 
and  had  moreover  mixed  in  the  first  society  of  the  day; 
his  appearance  was  impressed  with  that  air  of  melan- 
choly dignity  which  Dantes,  thanks  to  the  imitative  pow- 
ers bestowed  on  him  by  nature,  easily  acquired,  as  well  as 
that  elegant  politeness  which  he  had  previously  lacked, 
and  which  is  seldom  possessed  except  by  those  who  have 
been  placed  in  constant  intercourse  with  persons  of  high 
birth  and  breeding. 

At  the  end  of  fifteen  months  the  tunnel  was  made 
and  the  excavation  completed  beneath  the  gallery,  and 
the  two  workmen  could  distinctly  hear  the  measured  tread 
of  the  sentinel  as  he  paced  to  and  fro  over  their  heads. 
Compelled  as  they  were  to  await  a  night  sufficiently  dark 
to  favor  their  flight,  they  were  obliged  to  defer  their  final 
attempt  till  that  auspicious  moment  should  arrive.  Their 
greatest  dread  now  was  lest  the  stone  through  which  the 
sentry  was  doomed  to  fall  should  give  way  before  its 
right  time,  and  this  they  had  in  some  measure  provided 
against  by  placing  under  it,  as  a  kind  of  a  prop,  a  sort  of 
bearer  they  had  discovered  among  the  foundations  through 
which  they  had  worked  their  way.  Dantes  was  occupied 
in  arranging  this  piece  of  wood  when  he  heard  Faria,  who 
had  remained  in  Edmond's  cell  for  the  purpose  of  cutting 
a  peg  to  secure  their  rope-ladder,  call  to  him  in  accents  of 
distress.  Dantes  hastened  to  his  dungeon,  where  he  found 
him  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  pale,  his  fore- 
head streaming  with  perspiration,  and  his  hands  clinched 
tightly  together. 

"  Gracious  heavens  !  "  exclaimed  Dantes,  **  what  is  the 
matter?  what  has  happened?" 

"  Quick  !  quick  !  "  returned  the  abbe,  "  listen  to  me  !  " 

Dantes  looked  in  fear  and  wonder  at  the  livid  counte- 


THE  ABBE'S  CHAMBER.  219 

nance  of  Faria,  his  eyes  circled  by  a  halo  of  a  bluish  cast, 
his  white  lips,  his  disordered  hair,  and  terrified,  let  fall 
to  the  ground  the  chisel  he  was  holding  in  his  hand. 
"What,  then,  is  itl"  he  cried. 

"  I  am  lost ! "  said  the  abbe.  "  Listen  to  me.  I  am 
seized  with  a  terrible,  perhaps  mortal  illness ;  I  can  feel 
that  the  paroxysm  is  fast  approaching.  I  had  a  similar 
attack  the  year  previous  to  my  imprisonment.  This 
malady  admits  of  but  one  remedy;  I  wiU  tell  you  what 
that  is.  Go  into  my  cell  as  quickly  as  you  can ;  lift  one 
of  the  feet  that  support  the  bed.  You  will  find  it  has 
been  hollowed  out  for  the  purpose  of  containing  a  small 
phial  you  will  see  there  half-filled  with  a  red  fluid.  Bring 
it  to  me  —  or  rather,  no,  no  !  I  may  be  found  here  — 
help  me  back  to  my  room  while  I  have  still  some  strength. 
Who  knoAvs  what  may  happen  while  the  fit  continues  1 " 

Spite  of  the  magnitude  of  the  misfortune  which  thus 
suddenly  frustrated  his  hopes,  Dantes  did  not  lose  his 
presence  of  mind,  but  descended  into  the  corridor,  drag- 
ging his  unfortunate  companion  with  him;  then,  half- 
carrying,  half  supporting  him,  he  managed  to  reach  the 
abbe's  chamber,  when  he  immediately  laid  the  sufferer 
on  his  bed. 

*'  Thanks  ! "  said  the  poor  abbe,  shivering  as  though 
his  veins  were  filled  with  ice.  "  I  am  seized  with  a  fit  of 
catalepsy;  when  it  comes  to  its  height,  I  shall  perhaps 
lie  still  and  motionless  as  though  dead,  uttering  neither 
sigh  nor  groan.  On  the  other  hand,  the  symptoms  may 
be  much  more  violent,  and  cause  me  to  faU  into  fearful 
convulsions,  cover  my  lips  with  foaming,  and  force  from 
me  the  most  piercing  shrieks.  This  last  evil  you  must 
carefully  guard  against,  for  were  my  cries  to  be  heard,  it 
is  more  than  probable  I  should  be  removed  to  another 
part  of  the  prison,  and  we  should  be  separated  forever. 


220  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"When  T  become  quite  motionless,  cold,  and  rigid  as  a 
corpse,  then,  and  not  before,  you  understand,  force  open 
my  teeth  with  a  chisel,  pour  from  eight  to  ten  drops  of 
the  liquor  contained  in  the  phial  down  my  throat,  and 
perhaps  I  shall  revive." 

*'  Perhaps  1 "  exclaimed  Dantes,  in  grief-stricken  tones. 

"  Help  !  help  !  "  cried  the  abbe,  "  I  —  I  —die  —  I  — " 

So  sudden  and  violent  was  the  fit  that  the  unfortunate 
prisoner  was  unable  to  complete  the  sentence  begun ;  a 
violent  convulsion  shook  his  whole  frame,  his  eyes  started 
from  their  sockets,  his  mouth  was  drawn  on  one  side,  his 
cheeks  became  purple,  he  struggled,  foamed,  dashed  him- 
self about,  and  uttered  the  most  dreadful  cries,  which, 
however,  Dantes  prevented  from  being  heard  by  covering 
his  head  with  the  blanket.  The  fit  lasted  two  hours; 
then,  more  helpless  than  an  infant,  and  colder  and  paler 
than  marble,  more  crushed  and  broken  than  a  reed  tram- 
pled under  foot,  he  stretched  himself  out  in  a  last  convul- 
sion and  became  livid. 

Edmond  waited  till  life  seemed  extinct  in  the  body  of 
his  friend,  then,  taking  up  the  chisel,  he  with  difficulty 
forced  open  the  closely-fixed  jaws,  carefully  poured  the 
appointed  number  of  drops  down  the  rigid  throat,  and 
anxiously  awaited  the  result.  An  hour  passed  away 
without  the  old  man's  giving  the  least  sign  of  returning 
animation.  Dantes  began  to  fear  he  had  too  long  de- 
layed administering  the  remedy,  and  thrusting  his  hands 
into  his  hair,  continued  gazing  on  the  lifeless  features  of 
his  friend  in  an  agony  of  despair.  At  length  a  slight 
color  tinged  the  livid  cheeks,  consciousness  returned  to 
the  dull,  open  eyeballs,  a  faint  sigh  issued  from  the  lips, 
and  the  sufferer  made  a  feeble  effort  to  move. 

"  He  is  saved !  he  is  saved ! "  cried  Dantes,  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  delight. 


THE  ABBE'S   CHAIIBER.  221 

The  sick  man  was  not  yet  able  to  speak,  but  he  pointed 
with  evident  anxiety  towards  the  door.  Dantes  listened, 
and  plainly  distinguished  the  approaching  steps  of  the 
jailer.  It  was  therefore  near  seven  o'clock;  but  Edruond's 
anxiety  had  put  all  thoughts  of  time  out  of  his  head. 
The  young  man  sprang  to  the  entrance,  darted  through 
it,  carefully  drawing  the  stone  over  the  opening,  and  hur- 
ried to  his  cell.  He  had  scarcely  done  so  when  the  door 
opened,  and  disclosed  to  the  jailer's  inquisitorial  gaze  the 
prisoner  seated  as  usual  on  the  side  of  his  bed.  Almost 
before  the  key  had  turned  in  tlie  lock,  and  before  the  de- 
parting steps  of  the  jailer  had  died  away  in  the  long  cor- 
ridor he  had  to  traverse,  Dantes,  whose  restless  anxiety 
concerning  his  friend  left  him  no  desire  to  touch  the  food 
brought  him,  hurried  back  to  the  abbe's  chamber,  and 
raising  the  stone  by  pressing  his  head  against  it,  was  soon 
beside  the  sick  man's  couch.  Faria  had  now  fully  re- 
gained his  consciousness,  but  he  still  lay  helpless  and 
exhausted  on  his  miserable  bed, 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  again,"  said  he,  feebly,  to 
Dantes. 

"  And  why  not  1 "  asked  the  young  man.  "  Did  you 
expect,  then,  to  die  1 " 

"No,  but  all  is  ready  for  flight;  and  I  thought  you 
would  escape." 

The  deep  glow  of  indignation  suffused  the  cheeks  of 
Dantes.  "  And  did  you  really  think  so  meanly  of  me," 
cried  he,  "  as  to  believe  I  would  depart  without  you  ] " 

"  At  least,"  said  the  abbe,  "  I  now  see  that  I  was  mis- 
taken. Alas,  alas  !  I  am  fearfully  exhausted  and  debili- 
tated by  this  attack." 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,"  replied  Dantes ;  "  your  strength 
will  return."  And  as  he  spoke  he  seated  himself  on  the 
bed  beside  Faria,  and  tenderly  chafed  his  chilled  hands. 


222  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  abbe  shook  his  head.  "  The  former  of  these  fits," 
said  he,  "  lasted  but  half  an  hour,  at  the  termination  of 
which  I  experienced  no  other  feeling  than  a  great  sensa- 
tion of  hunger,  and  I  rose  from  my  bed  without  help; 
now  I  can  neither  move  my  right  arm  nor  leg,  and  my 
head  is  confused,  which  indicates  a  rush  of  blood  to  the 
brain.  The  next  of  these  fits  will  either  carry  me  off  or 
leave  me  paralyzed  for  life." 

"  'No,  no  ! "  cried  Dantes  ;  "  you  are  mistaken ;  you  will 
not  die  !  And  your  third  attack  (if  indeed  you  should 
have  another)  will  find  you  at  liberty.  We  shall  save  you 
another  time,  as  we  have  done  this,  only  with  a  better 
chance,  because  we  shall  be  able  to  command  every  requi- 
site assistance." 

"  My  good  Edmond,"  answered  the  abb^,  "  be  not  de- 
ceived. The  attack  which  has  just  passed  away  con- 
demns me  to  perpetual  imprisonment.  None  can  es- 
cape but  those  who  can  walk." 

"  Well,  we  will  wait  a  week,  a  month,  two  months,  if 
necessary.  In  the  mean  time  your  strength  will  return ; 
and  as  it  only  remains  with  us  to  fix  the  hour  and  minute, 
we  will  choose  the  first  instant  that  you  feel  able  to  swim 
to  execute  our  project." 

"  I  shall  never  swim  again,"  replied  Faria.  "  This 
arm  is  paralyzed ;  not  for  a  time,  but  forever.  Lift  it, 
and  judge  by  its  weight  if  I  am  mistaken." 

The  young  man  raised  the  arm,  which  fell  back  by 
its  own  weight,  inanimate  and  helpless.  A  sigh  escaped 
him. 

"You  are  convinced  now,  Edmond,  are  you  not*?" 
asked  the  abbe.  "  Depend  upon  it,  I  know  what  I  say. 
Since  the  first  attack  I  experienced  of  this  malady,  I  have 
continually  reflected  on  it.  Indeed,  I  expected  it,  for  it 
is  a  family  inheritance ;  both  my  father  and  grandfather 


THE  abbe's  CHAIMBER,  223 

were  taken  off  by  it.  The  physician  who  prepared  for  me 
the  remedy  I  have  twice  successfully  taken  was  no  other 
than  the  celebrated  Cabanis ;  and  he  predicted  a  similar 
end  for  me." 

"  The  physician  may  be  mistaken  ! "  exclaimed  Dantes. 
"  And  as  for  your  poor  arm,  what  difference  will  that  make 
in  our  escape  1  Never  mind  if  you  cannot  swim  ;  I  can 
take  you  on  my  shoulders,  and  swim  for  both  of  us." 

"  My  son,"  said  the  abbe,  "  you,  who  are  a  sailor  and  a 
swimmer,  must  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a  man  so  loaded 
would  sink  ere  he  had  advanced  fifty  yards  in  the  sea. 
Cease,  then,  to  deceive  yourself  with  vain  hopes  that  even 
your  own  excellent  heart  refuses  to  believe  in.  Here  I 
shall  remain  till  the  hour  of  my  deliverance  arrives ;  and 
that,  in  all  human  probability,  will  be  the  hour  of  my 
death.  As  for  you,  who  are  young  and  active,  delay  not 
on  my  account,  but  fly  —  go !  I  give  you  back  your 
promise." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Dantes.  "  And  now  hear  my  deter- 
mination also."  Then  rising  and  extending  his  hand  with 
an  air  of  solemnity  over  the  old  man's  head,  he  slowly 
added,  "  By  the  blood  of  Christ  I  swear  that  I  will  not 
leave  you  while  you  live  !  " 

Faria  looked  at  that  young  man,  so  noble,  so  simple, 
of  so  lofty  a  spirit,  and  read  in  his  honest  open  counte- 
nance ample  confirmation  of  truthfulness,  as  well  as  sin- 
cere, affectionate,  and  faithful  devotion. 

"  Thanks,"  murmured  the  invalid,  extending  the  one 
hand  of  which  he  still  retained  the  use.  "Thanks  for 
your  generous  offer,  which  I  accept  as  frankly  as  it  was 
made."  Then,  after  a  short  pause  he  added,  "You  may 
one  of  these  days  reap  the  reward  of  your  disinterested 
devotion.  But  as  I  cannot,  and  you  will  not,  quit  this 
place,  it  becomes  necessary  to  fill  up  the  excavation  be- 


224  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

neath  the  soldier's  gallery  ;  he  might,  by  chance,  notice  a 
hollow  sound  produced  by  his  footsteps  over  the  excavated 
ground,  and  call  the  attention  of  his  officer  to  the  circum- 
stance. That  would  bring  about  a  discovery  which  would 
inevitably  lead  to  our  being  separated.  Go,  then,  and  set 
about  this  work,  in  which  unhappily  I  can  offer  you  no 
assistance ;  keep  at  it  all  night,  if  necessary,  and  do  not 
return  here  to-morrow  till  after  the  jailer  has  visited  me. 
I  shall  have  something  important  to  communicate  to  you." 
Dantes  took  the  hand  of  the  abbe  in  his,  and  affection- 
ately pressed  it.  Faria  smiled  encouragingly  on  him,  and 
the  young  man  retired  to  his  task,  filled  with  a  religious 
determination  faithfully  and  unflinchingly  to  discharge 
the  vow  which  bound  him  to  his  afllicted  friend. 


THE  TREASURE.  225 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE   TREASURE. 

"When  Dantes  returned  next  morning  to  the  chamber  of 
his  companion  in  captivity,  he  found  Faria  seated  and 
looking  composed.  In  the  ray  of  light  which  entered  by 
the  narrow  window  of  his  cell,  he  held  open  in  his  left 
hand,  of  which  alone,  it  will  be  recollected,  he  retained 
the  use,  a  morsel  of  paper,  which  from  being  constantly 
roUed  into  a  small  compass,  had  the  form  of  a  cylinder, 
and  was  not  easily  kept  open.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
showed  the  paper  to  Dantes. 

"  What  is  that  ] "  inquired  the  latter. 

"Look  at  it,"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  looked  at  it  with  all  possible  attention,"  said 
Dantes,  "and  I  only  see  a  half-burned  paper,  on  which 
are  traces  of  Gothic  characters,  traced  with  a  peculiar 
kind  of  ink." 

"This  paper,  my  friend,"  said  Faria,  "I  may  now 
avow  to  you,  since  I  have  proved  you,  —  this  paper  is  my 
treasure,  of  which,  from  this  day  forth,  one  half  belongs 
to  you." 

A  cold  damp  started  to  Dantes's  brow.  Until  this  day 
—  through  what  a  period  of  time  !  —  he  had  avoided  talk- 
ing to  the  abb^  of  this  treasure,  the  source  of  the  imputa- 
tion of  madness  against  him.  With  his  instinctive  delicacy 
Edmond  had  preferred  avoiding  any  touch  on  this  painful 
chord,  and  Faria  had  been  equally  silent.  He  had  taken 
the  silence  of  the  old  man  for  a  return  to  reason,  and  now 

VOL.   I.  — 15 


226  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

these  few  words,  uttered  by  Faria  after  so  painful  a  crisis, 
seemed  to  announce  a  serious  relapse  of  mental  alienation. 

"  Your  treasure  ] "  stammered  Dantes.     Faria  smiled. 

"  Yes,"  said  lie.  "  You  are  indeed  a  noble  heart, 
Edmond ;  and  I  see  by  your  paleness  and  your  shudder 
what  is  passing  in  your  heart  at  this  moment.  'No,  be 
assured ;  I  am  not  mad.  This  treasure  exists,  Dantes  ; 
and  if  I  have  not  been  allowed  to  possess  it,  you  will. 
Yes;  you.  No  one  would  listen  to  me  or  believe  me, 
because  they  thought  me  mad ;  but  you,  who  must  know 
that  I  am  not,  listen  to  me,  and  believe  me  afterwards  if 
you  will." 

"Alas  !  "  murmured  Edmond  to  himself,  "  this  is  a  ter- 
rible relapse  !  There  was  only  this  blow  wanting."  Then 
he  said  aloud,  "My  dear  friend,  your  attack  has  perhaps 
fatigued  you  ;  had  you  not  better  repose  a  while  1  To- 
morrow, if  you  will,  I  will  hear  your  narrative ;  but  to-day 
I  wish  to  nurse  you  carefully.  Besides,"  he  said,  "a  treas- 
ure is  not  a  matter  very  urgent  for  us." 

"  It  is  very  urgent,  Edmond  ! "  replied  the  old  man. 
"Who  knows  if  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day  after,  the 
third  attack  may  not  come  on  1  Eemember  that  then  all 
will  be  over.  I  have  often  thought  with  a  bitter  joy  that 
these  riches,  which  would  make  the  wealth  of  a  dozen 
families,  will  be  forever  lost  to  those  men  who  persecute 
me.  This  idea  was  revenge  to  me,  and  I  tasted  it  slowly 
in  the  night  of  my  dungeon  and  the  despair  of  my  captiv- 
ity. But  now  that  I  have  forgiven  the  world  for  the  love 
of  you ;  now  that  I  see  you  young  and  full  of  hope  and 
prospect ;  now  that  I  think  of  all  that  may  result  to  you 
in  the  good  fortune  of  such  a  disclosure,  —  I  shudder  at 
any  delay,  and  tremble  lest  I  should  not  assure  to  one  as 
worthy  as  yourself  the  possession  of  so  vast  an  amount 
of  hidden  treasure." 


THE  TREASURE.  227 

Edmond  turned  away  his  head  with  a  sigh. 

*'  You  persist  in  your  incredulity,  Edmond,"  continued 
Faria.  "  My  words  have  not  convinced  you.  I  see  you 
require  proofs.  Well,  then,  read  this  paper,  which  I  have 
never  shown  to  any  one." 

"To-morrow,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Edmond,  unwill- 
ing to  yield  to  the  old  man's  madness.  "  I  thought  it 
was  understood  that  we  should  not  talk  of  that  until 
to-morrow." 

"  Then  we  wiU  not  talk  of  it  until  to-morrow  ;  but  read 
this  paper  to-day." 

"  I  will  not  irritate  him,"  thought  Edmond,  and  taking 
the  paper,  of  which  half  was  wanting,  having  been  burned, 
no  doubt,  by  some  accident,  he  read,  — 

This  treasure,  which  may  amount  to  two 
of  Roman  crowns  in  the  most  distant  a 
of  the  second  opening  wh 
declare  to  belong  to  him  alo 
heir. 
25th  April,  149 

**  Well ! "  said  Faria,  when  the  young  man  had  finished 
reading  it. 

"  Why,"  replied  Dantes,  *'  I  see  nothing  but  broken 
lines  and  unconnected  words,  which  are  rendered  illegible 
by  fire." 

"  Yes,  to  yon,  my  friend,  who  read  them  for  the  first 
time  ;  but  not  for  me,  who  have  grown  pale  over  them 
by  many  nights'  study,  and  have  reconstructed  every 
phrase,  completed  every  thought." 

"  And  do  you  believe  you  have  discovered  the  concealed 
sense?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  have,  and  you  shall  judge  for  yourself; 
but  first  listen  to  the  history  of  this  paper." 


228  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Silence  ! "  exclaimed  Dantes.  "  Steps  approach  —  I 
go  —  adieu." 

And  Dantes,  happy  to  escape  the  history  and  explana- 
tion which  could  not  fail  to  confirm  his  apprehensions, 
glided  like  a  snake  along  the  narrow  passage,  while  Faria, 
restored  by  his  alarm  to  a  kind  of  activity,  pushed  with 
his  foot  the  stone  into  its  place,  and  covered  it  with  a  mat 
in  order  the  more  effectually  to  avoid  discovery. 

It  was  the  governor,  who,  hearing  of  Faria's  accident 
from  the  jailer,  had  come  in  person  to  see  him. 

Faria  sat  up  to  receive  him,  avoided  every  movement 
that  might  betray  his  condition,  and  continued  to  conceal 
from  the  governor  the  paralysis  that  had  already  stricken 
with  death  one  half  of  his  body.  His  fear  was  lest  the 
governor,  touched  with  pity,  might  order  him  to  be  re- 
moved to  a  prison  more  wholesome,  and  thus  separate  him 
from  his  young  companion.  But  fortunately  this  did  not 
happen,  and  the  governor  left  him,  convinced  that  the 
poor  madman,  for  whom  in  his  heart  he  felt  a  kind  of 
affection,  was  only  affected  with  a  slight  indisposition. 

During  this  time  Edmond,  seated  on  his  bed  with  his 
head  in  his  hands,  tried  to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts. 
All  was  so  rational,  so  grand,  so  logical,  with  Faria  since 
he  had  known  him,  that  he  could  not  understand  how  so 
much  wisdom  on  all  other  points  could  be  allied  to  mad- 
ness in  any  one.  Was  Faria  deceived  as  to  his  treasure, 
or  was  all  the  world  deceived  as  to  Faria  1 

Dantes  remained  in  his  cell  all  day,  not  daring  to  re- 
turn to  his  friend,  thinking  thus  to  defer  the  moment 
when  he  should  acquire  the  certainty  that  the  abbe  was 
mad,  —  that  conviction  w^ould  be  so  terrible  to  him  ! 

But  towards  the  evening,  after  the  usual  visitation, 
Faria,  not  seeing  the  young  man  appear,  tried  to  get  over 
the  distance  which  separated  them.     Edmond  shuddered 


THE  TREASURE.  229 

■when  lie  heard  the  painful  efforts  which  the  old  man 
made  to  drag  himself  along ;  his  leg  was  inert,  and  he 
could  no  longer  make  use  of  one  arm.  Edmond  was 
compelled  to  draw  him  towards  himself,  for  otherwise  he 
could  not  enter  by  the  small  aperture  which  led  to 
Dantes's  chamber. 

"  Here  I  am,  pursuing  you  remorselessly,"  he  said 
with  a  benignant  smile.  "  You  tliought  to  escape  my 
munificence,  but  it  is  in  vain.     Listen  to  me." 

Edmond  saw  there  was  no  escape,  and  placing  the  old 
man  on  his  bed,  he  seated  himself  on  the  stool  beside 
him. 

"  You  know,"  said  the  abbd,  "  that  I  was  the  secretary 
and  intimate  friend  of  Cardinal  Spada,  the  last  of  the 
princes  of  that  name.  I  owe  to  this  worthy  lord  all 
the  happiness  I  ever  knew.  He  was  not  rich,  although 
the  wealth  of  his  family  had  passed  into  a  proverb,  and  I 
heard  the  phrase  very  often,  'As  rich  as  a  Spada.'  But 
he,  like  public  rumor,  lived  on  this  reputation  for  wealth. 
His  palace  was  my  paradise.  I  instructed  his  nephews, 
who  are  dead ;  and  when  he  was  alone  in  the  world,  I 
returned  to  him,  by  an  absolute  devotion  to  his  will,  all 
he  had  done  for  me  during  ten  years.  The  house  of  the 
cardinal  had  no  secrets  for  me.  I  had  often  seen  my 
noble  patron  annotating  ancient  volumes,  and  eagerly 
searching  among  dusty  family  manuscripts.  One  day 
when  I  was  reproaching  him  for  his  unavailing  searches, 
and  the  kind  of  prostration  of  mind  that  followed  them, 
he  looked  at  me,  and  smiling  bitterly,  opened  a  volume 
relating  to  the  history  of  the  city  of  liome.  There,  in  the 
twenty-ninth  chapter  of  the  Life  of  Pope  Alexander  VL, 
were  the  following  lines,  which  I  can  never  forget :  — 

"'The  great  wars  of  Romagna  had  ended;  Caesar  Borgia, 
who  bad  completed  his  conquest,  had  need  of  money  to  pur- 


230  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

chase  all  Italy.  The  pope  had  also  need  of  money  to  make 
a  final  settlement  with  Louis,  the  twelfth  king  of  France,  for- 
midable still  in  spite  of  his  recent  reverses.  It  was  necessary, 
therefore,  to  have  recourse  to  some  profitable  speculation, 
which  was  a  matter  of  great  difticulty  in  the  impoverished 
condition  of  exhausted  Italy.  His  Holiness  had  an  idea;  he 
determined  to  make  two  cardinals.' 

"  In  choosing  two  of  the  greatest  personages  of  Rome, 
especially  rich  men,  the  holy  father  looked  for  the  follow- 
ing profits  from  his  speculation.  In  the  first  place  he 
had  to  sell  the  great  appointments  and  splendid  offices 
which  these  two  cardinals  held;  and  then  he  had  the 
two  liats  to  sell  besides.  There  was  a  third  profit  in  the 
speculation,  which  will  appear  hereafter.  The  pope  and 
Csesar  Borgia  first  found  the  two  future  cardinals;  they 
were  Jean  Eospigliosi,  who  held  four  of  the  highest  digni- 
ties of  the  holy  seat,  and  Caesar  Spada,  one  of  the  noblest 
and  richest  of  the  Roman  nobility.  Both  felt  the  high, 
honor  of  such  a  favor  from  the  pope.  They  were  am- 
bitious. These  having  been  selected,  Csesar  Borgia  soon 
found  purchasers  for  their  appointments.  The  result  was 
that  Eospigliosi  and  Spada  paid  for  being  cardinals,  and 
eight  other  persons  paid  for  the  offices  the  cardinals  held 
before  their  elevation,  and  thus  eight  hundred  thousand 
crowns  entered  into  the  coffers  of  the  speculators. 

"  It  is  time  now  to  proceed  to  the  last  part  of  the  specu- 
lation. The  pope  having  almost  smothered  Eospigliosi  and 
Spada  with  caresses,  having  bestowed  upon  them  the  in- 
signia of  cardinals  and  induced  them  to  realize  their  for- 
tunes and  fix  themselves  at  Rome,  —  the  pope  and  Csesar 
Borgia  invited  the  two  cardinals  to  dinner.  This  was  a 
matter  of  contest  between  the  holy  father  and  his  son. 
Csesar  thought  they  could  make  use  of  one  of  the  means 
wliich  he  always  had  ready  for  his  friends ;  that  is  to  say, 


THE  TREASURE.  231 

in  the  first  place  the  famous  key  with  which  they  requested 
certain  persons  to  go  and  open  a  particular  cupboard.  Tliis 
key  was  furnished  with  a  small  iron  point,  —  a  negligence 
on  the  part  of  the  locksmith.  When  this  was  pressed  to 
effect  the  opening  of  the  cupboard,  the  lock  of  which  was 
difficult,  the  person  was  pricked  by  this  small  point,  and 
the  next  day  he  died.  Then  there  was  the  ring  with  the 
lion's  head,  which  Ceesar  wore  when  he  meant  to  give  cer- 
tain squeezes  of  the  hand.  The  ]ion  bit  the  hand  thus 
favored,  and  at  the  end  of  twenty-four  hours  the  bite  was 
mortal.  Csesar,  then,  proposed  to  his  father  either  to  ask 
the  cardinals  to  open  the  cupboard,  or  to  give  each  a  cor- 
dial squeeze  of  the  hand ;  but  Alexander  VI.  replied  to 
him  :  *  While  we  are  thinking  of  these  worthy  cardi- 
nals, Spada  and  Rospigliosi,  let  us  ask  both  of  them  to 
a  dinner.  Something  tells  me  that  we  shall  regain  this 
money.  Besides,  you  forget,  Csesar,  an  indigestion  de- 
clares itself  immediately,  but  a  prick  or  a  bite  only  after 
one  or  two  days.'  Csesar  gave  way  before  such  cogent 
reasoning;  and  the  cardinals  were  consequently  invited 
to  dinner. 

"The  table  was  laid  in  a  vineyard  belonging  to  the 
pope,  near  St.  Pierre  ha  Liens,  — a  charming  retreat  which 
the  cardinals  knew  very  well  by  report,  Eospigliosi,  quite 
giddy  with  his  dignity,  prepared  his  stomach  and  assumed 
his  best  looks.  Spada,  a  prudent  man,  and  greatly  attached 
to  his  only  nephew,  a  young  captain  of  highest  promise, 
took  paper  and  pen  and  made  his  will.  He  then  sent  to 
his  nephew  to  await  him  in  the  vicinity  of  the  vineyard ; 
but  it  appeared  the  servant  did  not  find  him. 

"  Spada  knew  the  meaning  of  these  invitations ;  since 
Christianity,  so  eminently  civilizing,  had  made  progress  in 
Rome,  it  was  no  longer  a  centurion  who  came  from  the 
tyrant  with  a  message,  '  Csesar  wills  that  you  die,'  but  it 


232  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

was  a  legate  a  latere  who  came  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  to 
say  from  the  pope,  *  His  Holiness  requests  you  will  dine 
with  him.' 

"  Spada  set  out  about  two  o'clock  to  St.  Pierre  es  Liens. 
The  pope  awaited  him.  The  first  figure  that  struck  the 
eyes  of  Spada  was  that  of  his  nephew  in  full  costume, 
and  Caesar  Borgia  paying  him  most  marked  attentions. 
Spada  turned  pale,  as  Csesar  looked  at  him  with  an  ironical 
air,  which  proved  that  he  had  anticipated  all,  and  that 
the  snare  was  well  spread.  They  hegan  dinner,  and 
Spada  was  only  able  to  inquire  of  his  nephew  if  he  had 
received  his  message.  The  nephew  replied  no,  —  perfectly 
comprehending  the  meaning  of  the  question.  It  was  too 
late,  for  he  had  already  drunk  a  glass  of  excellent  wine, 
placed  for  him  expressly  by  the  pope's  butler.  Spada  at 
the  same  moment  saw  another  bottle  approach  him,  from 
which  he  was  liberally  supplied.  An  hour  afterwards  a 
physician  declared  they  were  both  poisoned  through  eating 
mushrooms.  Spada  died  on  the  threshold  of  the  vine- 
yard ;  tlie  nephew  expired  at  his  own  door,  making  signs 
which  his  wife  could  not  comprehend. 

"  Then  Csesar  and  the  pope  hastened  to  lay  hands  on 
the  heritage,  under  pretence  of  seeking  for  the  papers  of 
the  dead  man.  But  the  inheritance  consisted  in  this  only, 
—  a  scrap  of  paper  on  which  Spada  had  written  :  '  I  be- 
queath to  my  beloved  nephew  my  coffers,  my  books,  and, 
among  them,  my  breviary  with  the  gold  corners,  which  I 
beg  he  will  preserve  in  remembrance  of  his  affectionate 
uncle.' 

"  The  heirs  sought  everywhere,  admired  the  breviary, 
laid  hands  on  the  furniture,  and  were  greatly  astonished 
that  Spada,  the  rich  man,  was  really  the  most  miserable  of 
uncles.  There  were  no  treasures,  except  those  of  science, 
comprised  in  the  library  and  laboratories.     This  was  all : 


THE  TREASURE.  233 

Caesar  and  his  father  searched,  examined,  scrutinized,  but 
found  nothing,  or  at  least,  very  Httle,  —  not  exceeding  a 
few  thousand  crowns  in  plate,  and  about  the  same  in 
ready  money  ;  but  the  nephew  had  time  to  say  to  his  wife 
before  he  expired  :  '  Look  well  among  my  uncle's  papers ; 
there  is  a  will.' 

"They  sought  even  more  thoroughly  than  the  august 
heirs  had  done,  but  it  was  fruitless.  There  were  two 
palaces  and  a  vineyard  behind  the  Palatine  Hill ;  but  in 
these  days  landed  property  had  not  much  value,  and  the 
two  palaces  and  the  vineyard  remained  to  the  family  as 
beneath  the  rapacity  of  the  pope  and  his  son.  Months 
and  years  rolled  on.  Alexander  VI.  died,  poisoned,  — 
you  know  by  what  mistake.  Caesar,  poisoned  at  the  same 
time,  escaped  with  his  skin  colored  like  that  of  a  snake, 
and  assumed  a  new  cuticle,  on  which  the  poison  left 
spots,  like  those  we  see  on  the  skin  of  a  tiger;  then, 
compelled  to  quit  Rome,  he  went  and  killed  himself  in 
obscurity  in  a  night  skirmish  scarcely  noticed  in  history. 
After  the  pope's  death  and  his  son's  exile,  it  was  supposed 
the  Spada  family  would  again  make  the  splendid  figure 
they  had  before  the  cardinal's  time ;  but  this  was  not  the 
case.  The  Spadas  remained  in  doubtful  ease;  a  mystery 
hung  over  this  dark  affair ;  and  the  public  rumor  was  that 
Caesar,  a  better  politician  than  his  father,  had  carried  off 
from  the  pope  the  fortune  of  the  two  cardinals.  I  say  the 
two  because  Cardinal  Eospigliosi,  who  had  not  taken  any 
precaution,  was  completely  despoiled. 

"  Up  to  this  time,"  said  Faria,  interrupting  the  thread 
of  his  narrative,  "  this  seems  to  you  very  ridiculous,  no 
doubt  ? " 

"  Oh,  my  friend,"  cried  Dantes,  "  on  the  contrary,  it 
seems  as  if  I  were  reading  a  most  interesting  narrative ;  go 
on,  Tpray  of  you." 


234  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

'*  I  continue  :  The  family  began  to  feel  accustomed 
to  this  obscurity.  Years  rolled  on,  and  among  the  de- 
scendants some  were  soldiers,  others  diplomatists  ;  some 
churchmen,  some  bankers ;  some  grew  rich,  and  some 
were  ruined.  I  come  now  to  the  last  of  the  family,  whose 
secretary  I  was,  —  the  Comte  de  Spada.  I  had  often  heard 
him  complain  of  the  disproportion  of  his  rank  with  his 
fortune  ;  and  T  advised  him  to  sink  all  he  had  in  an  annuity. 
He  did  so,  and  thus  doubled  his  income.  The  celebrated 
breviary  remained  in  the  family,  and  was  in  the  count's 
possession.  It  had  been  handed  down  from  father  to  son, 
—  for  the  singular  clause  of  the  only  will  that  had  been 
found,  had  rendered  it  a  real  relique,  preserved  in  the  fam- 
ily with  superstitious  veneration.  It  was  an  illuminated 
book,  with  beautiful  Gothic  characters,  and  so  weighty 
with  gold  that  a  servant  always  carried  it  before  the  car- 
dinal on  days  of  great  solemnity. 

"  At  the  sight  of  papers  of  all  sorts,  —  titles,  contracts, 
parchments,  which  were  kept  in  the  arcliives  of  the  fam- 
ily all  descending  from  the  poisoned  cardinal,  —  I,  like 
twenty  servitors,  stewards,  secretaries  before  me,  in  my 
turn  examined  the  immense  bundles  of  documents  ;  but 
in  spite  of  the  most  accurate  researches,  I  found  —  nothing. 
Yet  I  had  read,  I  had  even  written  a  precise  history  of 
the  Borgia  family,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  assuring  myself 
whether  any  increase  of  fortune  had  occurred  to  them  on 
the  death  of  the  Cardinal  Csesar  Spada ;  but  could  trace 
only  the  acquisition  of  the  property  of  the  Cardinal  Ros- 
pigliosi,  his  companion  in  misfortune. 

"  I  was  then  almost  assured  that  the  inheritance  had 
profited  neither  the  Borgias  nor  the  family,  but  had  re- 
mained without  an  owner,  like  the  treasures  of  the  Arabian 
Nights,  which  slept  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth  under  the 
eyes  of  a  genie.     I  searched,  ransacked,  counted,  calculated 


THE  TREASURE.  235 

a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  the  income  and  expendi- 
ture of  the  family  for  three  hundred  years  ;  it  was  useless. 
I  remained  in  my  ignorance,  and  the  Comte  de  Spada  in 
his  poverty.  My  patron  died.  He  had  reserved  from  his 
annuity  his  family  papers,  his  library  composed  of  five 
thousand  volumes,  and  his  famous  breviary.  All  these  he 
bequeathed  to  me,  with  a  thousand  Roman  crowns  which 
he  had  in  ready  money,  on  condition  that  I  would  have 
anniversary  masses  said  for  the  repose  of  his  soul,  and  that 
I  would  draw  up  a  genealogical  tree  and  history  of  his 
house.  All  this  I  did  scrupulously.  Be  easy,  my  dear 
Edmond,  we  are  near  the  conclusion. 

"In  1807,  a  month  before  I  was  arrested,  and  fifteen 
days  after  the  death  of  Comte  de  Spada,  on  the  25th  of 
December  (you  wiU  see  presently  how  the  date  became 
fixed  in  my  memory),  I  was  reading  for  the  thousandth 
time  the  papers  I  was  arranging,  —  for  the  palace  was  sold 
to  a  stranger,  and  I  was  going  to  leave  Rome  and  settle 
at  Florence,  intending  to  take  with  me  twelve  thousand 
livres  I  possessed,  my  library  and  fiimous  breviary,  —  when 
tired  with  my  constant  labor  at  the  same  thing  and  over- 
come by  a  heavy  dinner  I  had  eaten,  my  head  dropped  on 
my  hands  and  I  fell  asleep  ;  it  was  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  I  woke  as  the  clock  was  striking  six. 
I  raised  my  head  ;  aU  was  in  darkness.  I  rang  for  a  light, 
but  as  no  one  came,  T  determined  to  find  one  for  myself. 
It  was  indeed  a  philosophical  habit  which  I  should  soon 
be  under  the  necessity  of  adopting.  I  took  a  wax  candle 
in  one  hand  and  with  the  other  groped  about  for  a  piece 
of  paper  (my  match-box  being  empty),  with  which  I  pro- 
posed to  procure  a  light  from  the  small  flame  still  playing 
on  the  embers.  Fearing,  however,  that  in  the  darkness  I 
might  use  some  valuable  paper,  I  hesitated  for  a  moment, 
then  recollected  that  I  had  seen  in  the  famous  breviary. 


236  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

which  was  on  the  table  beside  me,  an  old  paper  quite 
yellow  with  age,  and  which  had  served  as  a  marker  for 
centuries,  kept  in  its  place  by  the  veneration  of  the 
heirs.  I  felt  for  it,  found  it,  twisted  it,  and  putting  it 
into  the  expiring  flame,  set  light  to  it. 

"But  beneath  my  fingers,  as  if  by  magic,  as  the  fire 
ascended  I  saw  yellowish  characters  appear  on  the  paper. 
Then  terror  seized  upon  me.  I  grasped  the  paper  in  my 
hand,  put  out  the  flame  as  quickly  as  I  could,  lighted  my 
taper  in  the  fire  itself,  and  opened  the  crumpled  paper 
with  inexpressible  emotion.  I  found  that  these  characters 
had  been  traced  in  mysterious  and  sympathetic  ink,  visi- 
ble only  when  exposed  to  the  fire.  A  little  more  than 
one-third  of  the  paper  had  been  consumed  by  the  flame. 
It  was  that  paper  you  read  this  morning ;  read  it  again, 
Dantes,  and  then  I  will  complete  for  you  the  broken 
phrases  and  unconnected  sense." 

Faria  with  an  air  of  triumph  offered  the  paper  to  Dan- 
tes, who  this  time  read  the  following  words,  traced  with 
a  rust-colored  ink  :  — 

This  25th  day  of  April,  1498,  be 
Alexander  VI.  and  fearing  that  not 
he  may  desire  to  become  my  heir  and  re 
and  Bentivoglio,  who  were  poisoned, 
my  sole  heir,  that  I  have  bu 
and  has  visited  with  me  (that  is,  in 
island  of  Monte  Cristo)  all  I  poss 
jewels,  diamonds,  gems;  that  I  alone 
may  amount  to  nearly  two  mil 
will  find  on  raising  the  twentieth  ro 
creek  to  the  east  in  a  right  line.     Two  open 
in  these  caves ;  the  treasure  is  in  the  farthest  a 
which  treasure  I  bequeath  and  leave  en 
as  my  sole  heir. 

25th  April,  1498. 


Edmond  Dantes  learns  the  Secret  of  the  Treasure. 

Drawn  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett. 

The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  I.  237. 


'.  ^ii\  •a\"«i'^\  'd'j\uv.CA  'Luo\u\ad 


■J   HTMOM 


THE  TREASURE.  237 

"  And  now,"  said  the  abbe,  "  read  this  other  paper ; " 
and  he  presented  to  Dantes  a  second  leaf  with  fragments 
of  lines  written  on  it,  which  Edmond  read  as  follows  : 

ing  invited  to  dine  by  his  Holiness 

content  with  making  me  pay  for  my  hat, 

serves  for  me  the  fate  of  Cardinals  Caprara 

I  declare  to  my  nephew,  Guido  Spada, 

ried  in  a  place  he  knows 

the  caves  of  the  small 

essed  of  ingots,  gold,  money, 

know  of  the  existence  of  this  treasure,  which 

lions  of  Eoman  crowns,  and  which  he 

ck  from  the  small 

ings  have  been  made 

ngle  in  the  second; 

tire  to  him 

AR  t  Spada. 

Faria  followed  him  with  excited  look.  "  And  now,"  he 
said  when  he  saw  that  Dantes  had  read  the  last  line, 
"  put  the  two  fragments  together,  and  judge  for  your- 
self." Dantes  obeyed;  and  the  conjoined  pieces  gave 
the  following  :  — 

This  25th  day  of  April,  1498,  be —  ing  invited  to  dine  by  his 
Hohness  Alexander  VI.,  and  fearing  that  not —  content  with 
making  me  pay  for  my  hat,  he  may  desire  to  become  my  heir 
and  re —  serves  for  me  the  fate  of  Cardinals  Caprara  and  Ben- 
tivogUo,  who  were  poisoned, —  I  declare  to  my  nephew,  Guido 
Spada,  my  sole  heir,  that  I  have  bu —  ried  in  a  place  he  knows 
and  has  visited  with  me  (that  is,  in —  the  caves  of  the  small 
island  of  Monte  Cristo)  all  I  poss —  essed  of  ingots,  gold, 
money,  jewels,  diamonds,  gems;  that  I  alone —  know  of  the 
existence  of  this  treasure,  which  may  amount  to  nearly  two 
mil —  lions  of  Koman  crowns,  and  which  he  will  find  on 
raising  the  twentieth  ro —  ck  from  the  small  creek  to  the  east 
in  a  right  line.     Two  open —  ings  have  been  made  in  these 


238  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

caves  ;  the  treasure  is  in  the  farthest  a —  ngle  in  the  second; 
■which  treasure  I  bequeath  and  leave  en —  tire  to  him  as  my 
sole  heir. 

CiES — AR  f  SpADA. 

25th  April,  1498. 

"  Well,  do  you  comprehend  now  1 "  inquired  Faria. 

*'  It  is  the  declaration  of  Cardinal  Spada,  and  the  will 
so  long  sought  for  1 "  replied  Edmond,  still  incredulous. 

"  Yes  !  a  thousand  times  yes  ! " 

"  And  who  completed  it  as  it  now  is  1 " 

"  I  did.  Aided  by  the  remaining  fragment,  I  guessed 
the  rest,  —  measuring  the  length  of  the  lines  by  that  of 
the  paper,  and  divining  the  hidden  meaning  by  means  of 
what  was  in  part  revealed,  as  we  are  guided  in  a  cavern 
by  the  small  ray  of  light  above  ns." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  when  you  arrived  at  this 
conclusion  1 " 

"  I  resolved  to  set  out,  and  did  set  out  that  very  in- 
stant, carrying  with  me  the  beginning  of  my  great  work 
on  the  unity  of  Italy  ;  but  for  some  time  the  imperial 
police,  —  who  at  this  period,  quite  contrary  to  what  Napo- 
leon desired  so  soon  as  he  had  a  son  born  to  him,  wished 
for  a  partition  of  provinces,  —  had  their  eyes  on  me.  And 
my  hasty  departure,  the  cause  of  which  they  were  unable 
to  guess,  having  aroused  their  suspicions,  I  was  arrested 
at  the  very  moment  I  was  leaving  Piombino.  Now," 
continued  Faria,  addressing  Dantes  with  an  almost  pater- 
nal expression,  —  "  now,  my  dear  fellow,  you  know  as 
much  as  I  do  myself.  If  we  ever  escape  together,  half 
this  treasure  is  yours  ;  if  I  die  here,  and  you  escape  alone, 
the  whole  belongs  to  you." 

"But,"  inquired  Dantes,  hesitating,  "has  this  treas- 
ure no  more  legitimate  possessor  in  this  world  tlian 
ourselves  1 " 


THE  TREASURE.  239 

"  No,  no,  be  easy  on  that  score ;  the  flimily  is  ex- 
tinct. The  last  Comte  de  Spada,  moreover,  made  me 
his  heir;  bequeathing  to  me  this  symbolic  breviary,  he 
bequeathed  to  me  all  it  contained.  'No,  no,  be  assured ; 
if  we  lay  hands  on  this  fortune,  we  may  enjoy  it 
without  remorse." 

"  And  you  sa}'  this  treasure  amounts  to  —  " 

"  Two  millions  of  Eoman  crowns,  —  about  thirteen 
millions  of  our  money." 

"  Impossible  ! "  said  Dantes,  staggered  at  the  enor- 
mous amount. 

"  Impossible  !  and  why  1 "  asked  the  old  man.  "  The 
Spada  family  was  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  powerful 
families  of  the  fifteenth  century;  and  in  those  times  when 
all  speculative  and  industrial  enterprises  were  wanting, 
those  accumulations  of  gold  and  jewels  were  by  no  means 
rare.  There  are  at  this  day  Roman  families  perishing  of 
hunger,  though  possessed  of  nearly  a  milKon  in  dia- 
monds and  jewels  handed  down  as  heirlooms,  which 
they  cannot  touch." 

Edmoud  thought  he  was  in  a  dream ;  he  wavered  be- 
tween incredulity  and  joy. 

*'  I  have  only  kept  this  secret  so  long  from  you,"  con- 
tinued Faria,  "  that  I  might  prove  you  and  then  surprise 
you.  Had  we  escaped  before  my  attack  of  catalepsy,  I 
should  have  conducted  you  to  Monte  Cristo  ;  noAv,"  he 
added  with  a  sigh,  '*  it  is  you  who  will  conduct  me  thither. 
Well  !  Dantes,  you  do  not  thank  me." 

"This  treasure  belongs  to  you,  my  dear  friend,"  re- 
plied Dantes  ;  "  and  to  you  only.  I  have  no  right  to  it. 
I  am  no  relative  of  yours." 

"  You  are  my  son,  Dantes  ! "  exclaimed  the  old  man. 
"You  are  the  child  of  my  captivity.  My  profession 
condemns  me  to  celibacy.     God  has  sent  you  to  me  to 


240  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

console,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  man  who  could 
not  be  a  father  and  the  prisoner  who  could  not  get  free." 
And  Faria  extended  the  arm  which  he  still  could  use 
to  the  young  man,  who  threw  himseK  on  his  neck  and 
wept. 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  241 


CHAPTEE     XIX. 

THE  THIRD  ATTACK. 

Now  that  this  treasure  which  had  so  long  been  the  object 
of  the  abbe's  meditations  could  insure  the  future  happi- 
ness of  liim  whom  Faria  really  loved  as  a  son,  it  had 
doubled  its  value  in  his  eyes,  and  every  day  he  expatiated 
on  the  amount,  explaining  to  Dantes  all  the  good  which 
with  thirteen  or  fourteen  millions  of  livres  a  man  could  do 
in  these  days  to  his  friends  ;  and  then  Dantes's  counte- 
nance became  gloomy,  for  the  oath  of  vengeance  he  had 
taken  recurred  to  his  memory,  and  he  reflected  how  much 
ill  in  these  times  a  man  with  thirteen  or  fourteen  millions 
could  do  to  his  enemies. 

The  abbe  did  not  know  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo ;  but 
Dantes  knew  it  and  had  often  passed  it,  situated  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Pianosa,  between  Corsica  and  the  Isle  of 
Elba,  and  had  once  touched  at  it.  This  island  was,  always 
had  been,  and  still  is,  completely  deserted.  It  is  a  rock  of 
almost  conical  form,  which  seems  as  though  projected  by 
some  volcanic  effort  from  the  depth  to  the  surface  of  the 
ocean.  Dantes  traced  a  plan  of  the  island  for  Faria,  and 
Faria  gave  Dantes  advice  as  to  the  means  he  should  employ 
to  recover  the  treasure.  But  Dantes  was  far  from  being  as 
enthusiastic  and  confident  as  the  old  man.  It  was  cer- 
tain indeed  that  Faria  was  not  a  lunatic,  and  the  way  in 
which  he  had  achieved  the  discovery  which  had  given 
rise  to  the  suspicion  of  his  madness  increased  Dantes's 
admiration  of  him ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  could  not 

VOL.    I.  —  16 


242  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

believe  that  that  deposit,  supposing  it  had  ever  existed, 
still  existed;  and  though  he  considered  the  treasure  as 
by  no  means  chimerical,  he  yet  believed  it  veas  no  longer 
there. 

However,  as  if  fate  resolved  on  depriving  the  prisoners 
of  their  last  chance,  and  making  them  understand  that 
they  were  condemned  to  perpetual  imprisonment,  a  new 
misfortune  befell  them  ;  the  gallery  on  the  sea  side,  which 
had  long  been  in  ruins,  was  rebuilt.  They  repaired  it 
completely,  and  stopped  up  with  vast  masses  of  stone  the 
hole  Dantes  had  partly  filled  in.  But  for  this  precaution, 
which  it  will  be  remembered  had  been  suggested  to  Ed- 
mond  by  the  abbe,  the  misfortune  would  have  been  still 
greater,  —  for  their  attempt  to  escape  would  have  been  dis- 
covered, and  they  would  undoubtedly  have  been  sepa- 
rated. Thus  a  new  and  even  stronger  door  was  closed 
upon  them. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  young  man,  with  an  air  of  sorrow- 
ful resignation,  to  Faria,  "  that  God  deems  it  right  to  take 
from  me  even  what  you  call  my  devotion  to  you.  I  have 
promised  to  remain  forever  with  you,  and  now  I  could  not 
break  my  promise  if  I  would.  I  shall  no  more  have  the 
treasure  than  you;  and  neither  of  us  will  quit  this  prison. 
But  my  real  treasure  is  not  that,  my  dear  friend,  which 
awaits  me  beneath  the  sombre  rocks  of  Monte  Cristo, 
but  it  is  your  presence,  —  our  living  together  five  or  six 
hours  a  day,  in  spite  of  our  jailers ;  it  is  those  rays  of  in- 
telligence you  have  elicited  from  my  brain,  the  languages 
you  have  implanted  in  my  memory,  and  which  spring 
there  with  all  their  philological  ramifications.  These 
different  sciences  that  j'-ou  have  made  so  easy  to  me 
by  the  depth  of  the  knowledge  you  possess  of  them  and 
the  clearness  of  the  principles  to  which  you  have  reduced 
them,  —  this  is  my  treasure,  my  beloved  friend,  and  with 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  243 

this  you  have  made  me  rich  and  happy.  Believe  me,  and 
take  comfort ;  this  is  better  for  me  than  tons  of  gold 
and  cases  of  diamonds,  even  were  they  not  perlmps  delu- 
sive, —  like  the  clouds  we  see  in  the  morning  floating  over 
the  sea,  which  we  take  for  terra  firma,  and  which  evapo- 
rate and  vanish  as  we  draw  near  to  them.  To  have  you 
as  long  as  possible  near  me ;  to  hear  your  eloquent  voice 
eiiriching  my  mind,  strengthening  my  soul,  and  making 
my  whole  frame  capable  of  great  and  terrible  things  if  I 
should  ever  be  free,  so  filling  my  soul  that  the  despair  to 
which  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  yielding  when  I  knew 
you  has  no  longer  any  hold  over  me,  —  this  is  my  for- 
tune, and  there  is  nothing  uncertain  about  it.  I  owe  it 
all  to  you  ;  and  all  the  sovereigns  of  the  earth,  were  they 
Caesar  Borgias,  could  not  take  it  from  me." 

Thus  the  days  which  these  two  unfortunates  passed  to- 
gether, if  they  were  not  happy  days,  at  least  went  as  quickly 
as  the  days  that  followed.  Faria,  who  for  so  long  a  time 
had  kept  silence  as  to  the  treasure,  now  perpetually  talked 
of  it.  As  he  had  foreseen,  he  remained  paralyzed  in  the 
right  arm  and  the  left  leg,  and  had  given  up  all  hope  of 
ever  enjoying  it  himself.  But  he  was  continually  think- 
ing over  some  means  of  escape  for  his  young  companion, 
and  he  enjoyed  it  for  him.  For  fear  the  letter  might  be 
some  day  lost  or  abstracted,  he  compelled  Dantes  to  learn 
it  by  heart ;  and  he  thus  knew  it  from  one  end  to  the 
other.  Then  he  destroyed  the  second  portion,  assured 
that  if  the  first  were  seized,  no  one  would  be  able  to  pene- 
trate its  real  meaning.  Whole  hours  sometimes  passed 
while  Faria  was  giving  instructions  to  Dantes,  —  instruc- 
tions which  were  to  serve  him  when  he  was  at  liberty. 
Then,  once  free,  from  the  day  and  hour  and  moment  when 
he  was  so,  he  could  have  but  one  only  thought,  which 
was   to  gain  Monte   Cristo  by  some  means  and  remain 


244  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

there  alone  under  some  pretext  which  ■would  give  no  sus- 
picions ;  and  once  there,  to  endeavor  to  find  the  wonderful 
caverns  and  search  in  the  appointed  spot,  —  the  appointed 
spot,  he  it  remembered,  being  the  farthest  angle  in  the 
second  opening. 

In  the  mean  while  the  hours  passed,  if  not  rapidly,  at 
least  tolerably.  Faria,  as  we  have  said,  without  having 
recovered  the  use  of  his  hand  and  foot,  had  resumed  all 
the  clearness  of  his  understanding,  and  had  gradually, 
besides  the  moral  instructions  we  have  detailed,  taught 
his  youthful  companion  the  patient  and  sublime  duty  of 
a  prisoner,  who  learns  to  make  something  from  nothing. 
They  were  thus  perpetually  employed,  —  Faria,  that  he 
might  not  see  himself  grow  old  ;  Dantes,  for  fear  of  recal- 
ling the  almost  extinct  past  which  now  floated  in  his 
memory  like  a  distant  light  wandering  in  the  night.  So 
the  days  passed  by  as  in  lives  which  have  not  been  dis- 
ordered by  calamity  and  which  glide  on  mechanically  and 
tranquilly  beneath  the  eye  of  Providence. 

But  beneath  this  superficial  calm  there  were  in  the 
heart  of  the  young  man,  and  perhaps  in  that  of  the  old 
man,  many  repressed  desires,  many  stifled  sighs  which 
found  vent  when  Faria  was  left  alone,  and  when  Edmond 
returned  to  his  cell.  One  night  Edmond  awoke  suddenly, 
believing  he  heard  some  one  calling  him.  He  opened  his 
eyes  and  tried  to  pierce  through  the  gloom.  His  name,  or 
rather  a  plaintive  voice  which  essayed  to  pronounce  his 
name,  reached  him.  "  Great  God  ! "  murmured  Edmond, 
"  what  does  it  mean  1 " 

He  moved  his  bed,  drew  up  the  stone,  rushed  into  the 
passage,  and  reached  the  opposite  extremity;  the  secret 
entrance  was  open.  By  the  light  of  the  wretched  and 
wavering  lamp  of  which  we  have  spoken,  Dantes  saw 
the  old  man,  pale  but  yet  erect,  clinging  to  the  bedstead. 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  245 

His  features  were  writhing  with  those  horrible  symptoms 
which  Daiites  already  knew,  and  winch  had  so  seriously 
alarmed  him  when  he  saw  them  for  the  first  time. 

"  Well,  my  friend,"  said  Faria,  in  a  resigned  tone,  "  you 
understand,  do  you  not ;  and  I  need  not  attempt  to  ex- 
plain to  you  ] " 

Edmond  uttered  a  cry  of  agony,  and  quite  out  of  his 
senses,  rushed  towards  the  door,  exclaiming,  "  Help ! 
help  !  "  Faria  had  just  sufficient  strength  to  retain 
him. 

"  Silence  ! "  he  said,  "  or  you  are  lost.  Think  now  of 
yourself,  —  of  making  your  captivity  supportable  or  your 
flight  possible.  It  would  require  years  to  renew  only 
what  I  have  done  here,  and  which  would  be  instantly 
destroyed  if  our  jailers  knew  we  had  communicated  with 
each  other.  Besides,  be  assured,  my  dear  Edmond,  the 
dungeon  I  am  about  to  leave  will  not  long  remain  empty ; 
some  other  unfortunate  being  will  soon  take  my  place, 
and  to  him  you  will  appear  like  an  angel  of  salvation. 
Perhaps  he  will  be  young,  strong,  and  enduring,  like 
yourself,  and  will  aid  you  in  your  escape ;  while  I  should 
only  hinder  it.  You  will  no  longer  have  a  half-dead  body 
tied  to  you  to  paralyze  all  your  movements.  At  length 
Providence  has  done  something  for  you ;  he  restores  to 
you  more  than  he  takes  away,  and  it  is  time  for  me 
to  die." 

Edmond  could  only  clasp  his  hands  and  exclaim,  "  Oh, 
my  friend  !  my  friend  !  speak  not  thus  !  "  And  then  re- 
suming all  his  presence  of  mind,  which  had  for  a  moment 
staggered  under  this  blow,  and  his  strength,  which  had 
failed  at  the  words  of  the  old  man,  he  said,  "  Oh,  I  have 
saved  you  once,  and  I  will  save  you  again  ! "  And  rais- 
ing the  foot  of  the  bed,  he  drew  out  the  phial,  still  con- 
taining some  of  the  red  liquor. 


246  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  See  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  there  remains  still  some  of  this 
saving  draught.  Quick,  quick  !  tell  me  what  I  must  do 
this  time  ;  are  there  any  fresh  instructions  1  Speak,  my 
friend ;  I  listen." 

"  There  is  no  hope,"  replied  Faria,  shaking  his  head ; 
"but  no  matter.  God  wills  it  that  man,  whom  he  has 
created  and  in  whose  heart  he  has  so  profoundly  rooted 
the  love  of  life,  should  do  all  in  his  power  to  preserve 
that  existence,  which  however  painful  it  may  be  is  yet 
always  so  dear." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  ! "  exclaimed  Dantes,  "  and  I  tell  you 
you  shall  yet  be  saved  ! " 

"  Well,  then,  try.  The  cold  gains  upon  me.  I  feel  the 
blood  flowing  towards  my  brain.  This  horrible  trembling 
which  makes  my  teeth  chatter  and  seems  to  dislocate  my 
bones,  begins  to  pervade  my  whole  frame  ;  in  five  minutes 
the  malady  will  reach  its  height,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  there  will  be  nothing  left  of  me  but  a  dead  body." 

"  Oh!  "  exclaimed  Dantes,  his  heart  wrung  with  anguish. 

"  Do  as  you  did  before,  only  do  not  wait  so  long.  All 
the  springs  of  life  are  now  exhausted  in  me,  and  death," 
he  continued,  looking  at  his  paralyzed  arm  and  leg,  "has 
but  half  its  work  to  do.  If  after  having  made  me  swal- 
low twelve  drops  instead  of  ten,  you  see  that  I  do  not 
recover,  then  pour  the  rest  down  my  throat.  Now  lift  me 
on  my  bed,  for  I  can  no  longer  support  myself." 

Edmond  took  the  old  man  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on 
the  bed. 

"And  now,  friend,"  said  Faria,  "sole  consolation  of  my 
wretched  existence, — you  whom  Heaven  gave  me  some- 
what late,  but  still  gave  me,  a  priceless  gift,  and  for  which 
I  am  most  grateful, — at  the  moment  of  separating  from 
you  forever,  I  wish  you  all  the  happiness  and  all  the 
prosperity  you  so  well  deserve.     My  son,  I  bless  thee  !  " 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  247 

The  young  man  cast  himself  on  his  knees,  leaning  his 
head  against  the  old  man's  bed. 

"  Listen  now  to  what  I  say  in  this  my  dying  moment. 
The  treasure  of  the  Spadas  exists.  By  the  grace  of  God 
there  is  no  longer  for  me  either  distance  or  obstacle.  I 
see  it  in  the  depths  of  the  inner  cavern.  My  eyes  pierce 
the  inmost  recesses  of  the  earth  and  are  dazzled  at  the 
sight  of  so  much  riches.  If  you  do  escape,  remember 
that  the  poor  abbe  whom  all  the  world  called  mad  was 
not  so.  Hasten  to  Monte  Cristo ;  avail  yourself  of  the 
fortune, — for  you  have  indeed  suffered  long  enough." 

A  violent  sliock  interrupted  the  old  man.  Dantes 
raised  his  head  and  saw  Faria's  eyes  injected  with  blood. 
It  seemed  as  if  a  wave  of  blood  had  ascended  from  the 
chest  to  the  head. 

"  Adieu !  adieu  ! "  murmured  the  old  man,  clasping 
Edmond's  hand  convulsively  ;    "  adieu  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  not  yet !  "  he  cried ;  "  do  not  forsake 
me  !   Oh,  help  him  !     Help  !  help  !  " 

"  Hush !  hush  !  "  murmured  the  dying  man,  "  that 
they  may  not  separate  us  if  you  save  me  !  " 

"  You  are  right.  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  be  assured  I  shall  save 
you !  Besides,  although  you  suffer  much,  you  do  not  seem 
in  such  agony  as  before." 

"Do  not  mistake  !  I  suffer  less  because  there  is  in  me 
less  strength  to  endure.  At  your  age  we  have  faith  in 
life ;  it  is  the  privilege  of  youth  to  believe  and  hope,  but 
old  men  see  death  more  clearly.  Oh  !  't  is  here  —  't  is 
here  —  'tis  over  —  my  sight  is  gone — my  reason  escapes! 
Your  hand,  Dantes  !  Adieu  !  —  adieu  !  "  And  raising 
himself  by  a  final  effort  in  which  he  united  all  his  facul- 
ties, he  said,  "  Monte  Cristo !  forget  not  Monte  Cristo  !  " 
and  he  fell  back  on  his  bed.  The  crisis  was  terrible  ; 
on  that  bed  of  pain  were  twisted  limbs,  swollen  eyelids, 


248  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

bloody  foam,  and  a  body  without  motion,  —  instead  of  the 
intelligent  being  who,  a  moment  before,  was  lying  there. 

Dantes  took  the  lamp,  and  placed  it  on  a  projecting 
stone  above  the  bed,  whence  its  tremulous  light  fell  with 
strange  and  fantastic  ray  on  this  discomposed  countenance 
and  this  motionless  and  stiffened  body.  With  fixed  eyes 
he  awaited  boldly  the  moment  for  administering  the  sav- 
ing remedy. 

When  he  believed  the  instant  had  arrived,  he  took  the 
knife,  unclosed  the  teeth,  which  offered  less  resistance 
than  before,  counted  one  after  the  other  twelve  drops, 
and  watched.  The  phial  contained,  perhaps,  twice  as 
much  more.  He  waited  ten  minutes,  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  half  an  hour;  nothing  moved.  Trembling,  his 
hair  erect,  his  brow  bathed  with  perspiration,  he  counted 
the  seconds  by  the  beatings  of  his  heart.  Then  he 
thought  it  was  time  to  make  the  last  trial,  and  he  put 
the  phial  to  the  violet  lips  of  Faria ;  and  witliout  hav- 
ing occasion  to  force  open  his  jaws,  which  had  remained 
extended,  he  poured  the  whole  of  the  liquid  down  his 
throat. 

The  draught  produced  a  galvanic  effect ;  a  violent  trem- 
bling pervaded  the  old  man's  limbs  ;  his  eyes  opened  until 
it  was  fearful  to  gaze  upon  them ;  he  heaved  a  sigh  which 
resembled  a  shriek;  and  then  all  this  vibrating  frame 
returned  gradually  to  its  state  of  immobility,  the  eyes 
remaining  open. 

Half  an  hour,  an  hour,  an  hour  and  a  half  elapsed ; 
and  during  this  time  of  anguish  Edmond  leaned  over  his 
friend,  his  hand  applied  to  his  heart,  and  felt  the  body 
gradually  grow  cold,  and  the  heart's  pulsation  become 
more  and  more  deep  and  dull,  until  at  length  all  stopped. 
The  last  movement  of  the  heart  ceased ;  the  face  became 
livid ;  the  eyes  remained  open,  but  the  look  was  glazed. 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  249 

It  was  six  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  the  dawn  was  just 
breaking,  and  its  weak  ray  came  into  the  dungeon  and 
paled  the  dying  light  of  the  lamp.  Singular  shadows 
passed  over  the  countenance  of  the  dead  man,  which  at 
times  gave  it  the  appearance  of  life.  While  this  struggle 
between  day  and  night  lasted,  Dantes  still  doubted ;  but 
as  soon  as  the  daylight  gained  the  pre-eminence  he  saw 
that  he  was  alone  with  a  corpse.  Then  an  invincible  and 
extreme  terror  seized  upon  him,  and  he  dared  not  again 
press  the  hand  that  hung  out  of  bed ;  he  dared  no  longer 
to  gaze  on  those  fixed  and  vacant  eyes  which  he  tried 
many  times  to  close,  but  in  vain,  —  they  opened  again 
always.  He  extinguished  the  lamp,  carefully  concealed 
it,  and  then  went  away,  closing  as  well  as  he  could  the 
entrance  to  the  secret  passage  by  the  large  stone,  as  he 
descended. 

It  was  time,  for  the  jailer  was  coming.  On  this  occa- 
sion he  began  his  rounds  at  Dantes's  cell,  and  on  leaving 
him  he  went  on  to  Faria's  dungeon,  where  he  was  taking 
breakfast  and  some  linen.  Nothing  indicated  that  the  man 
knew  anything  of  what  had  occurred.    He  went  on  his  way. 

Dantes  was  then  seized  with  an  indescribable  desire  to 
know  what  was  going  on  in  the  dungeon  of  his  unfortu- 
nate friend.  He  therefore  returned  by  the  subterranean 
gallery,  and  arrived  in  time  to  hear  the  exclamations  of 
the  turnkey,  who  called  out  for  help.  Other  turnkeys 
came,  and  then  was  heard  the  regular  tramp  habitual  to 
soldiers  even  when  not  on  duty ;  behind  them  came  the 
governor. 

Edmond  heard  the  noise  of  the  bed,  on  which  they  were 
moving  the  corpse,  heard  the  voice  of  the  governor,  who 
desired  them  to  throw  water  on  the  face,  and  seeing 
that  in  spite  of  this  application  the  prisoner  did  not  re- 
cover, sent  for  the  doctor.     The  governor  then  went  out, 


250  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  some  words  of  pity  fell  on  Dantes's  listening  ears, 
mingled  with  brutal  laughter, 

"  Well,  well ! "  said  one,  "  the  madman  has  gone  to 
look  after  his  treasure.     Good  journey  to  him  !  " 

"  With  all  his  millions,  he  will  not  have  enough  to  pay 
for  his  shroud  ! "  said  another. 

"  Oh  !  "  added  a  third  voice,  "  the  shrouds  of  the  Cha- 
teau d'lf  are  not  dear ! " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  one  of  the  previous  speakers,  "  as  he 
was  a  priest,  they  may  go  to  some  expense  in  his  behalf." 

"  They  may  give  him  the  honors  of  the  sack." 

Edmond  did  not  lose  a  word,  but  comprehended  very 
little  of  what  was  said.  The  voices  soon  ceased ;  and  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  the  persons  had  all  left  the  cell.  Still 
he  dared  not  to  enter,  as  they  might  have  left  some  turn- 
key to  watch  the  dead.  He  remained,  therefore,  mute  and 
motionless,  restraining  even  his  respiration.  At  the  end 
of  an  liour  he  heard  a  faint  noise,  which  increased.  It 
was  the  governor,  who  returned,  followed  by  the  doctor 
and  other  attendants.  There  was  a  moment's  silence; 
it  was  evident  that  the  doctor  was  examining  the  dead 
body.     The  inquiries  soon  commenced. 

The  doctor  analyzed  the  symptoms  of  the  malady  under 
which  the  prisoner  had  sunk,  and  declared  he  was  dead. 
Questions  and  answers  followed  in  a  careless  tone  that 
made  Dantes  indignant,  for  he  felt  that  all  the  world 
should  experience  for  the  poor  abbe  the  love  he  bore  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  what  you  tell  me,"  said  the  gov- 
ernor, replying  to  the  assurance  of  the  doctor  that  the  old 
man  was  really  dead ;  "  for  he  was  a  quiet,  inoffensive 
prisoner,  happy  in  his  folly,  and  required  no  watching." 

"Ah  !  "  added  the  turnkey,  "  there  was  no  occasion  for 
watching  him  ;  he  would  have  stayed  here  fifty  years,  I  '11 
answer  for  it,  Avithout  any  attempt  to  escape." 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  251 

"Still,"  said  the  governor,  "I  believe  it  will  be  requi- 
site, notwithstanding  your  certainty,  and  not  that  I  doubt 
your  science,  but  for  my  own  responsibility's  sake,  that 
we  should  be  perfectly  assured  that  the  prisoner  is 
dead." 

There  was  a  moment  of  complete  silence,  during  which 
Dantes,  still  listening,  conjectured  that  the  doctor  was 
examining  and  touching  the  corpse  a  second  time. 

"You  may  make  your  mind  easy,"  said  the  doctor; 
"  he  is  dead.     I  will  answer  for  that." 

"  You  know,  Monsieur,"  said  the  governor,  persisting, 
"  that  we  are  not  content  in  such  cases  as  this  with  a  sim- 
ple examination.  In  spite  of  all  appearances,  be  so  kind 
therefore  as  to  finish  your  duty  by  fulfilling  the  formali- 
ties prescribed  by  law." 

"  Let  the  irons  be  heated,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  but  really 
it  is  a  useless  precaution." 

This  order  to  heat  the  irons  made  Dantes  shudder.  He 
heard  hasty  steps,  the  creaking  of  a  door,  people  going 
and  coming ;  and  some  minutes  afterwards  a  turnkey  en- 
tered, saying,  "Here  is  the  brazier,  lighted." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  was  heard  the 
noise  made  by  burning  flesh,  of  which  the  peculiar  and 
nauseous  smell  penetrated  even  behind  the  wall  where  Dan- 
tes was  listening  horrified.  At  this  smell  of  human  flesh 
carbonized,  the  damp  came  over  the  young  man's  brow, 
and  he  felt  as  if  he  should  faint. 

"  You  see,  Monsieur,  he  is  really  dead,"  said  the  doc- 
tor ;  "  this  burn  in  the  heel  is  decisive.  The  poor  fool  is 
cured  of  his  folly,  and  delivered  from  his  captivity." 

"  Was  n't  his  name  Faria  1 "  inquired  one  of  the  officers 
who  accompanied  the  governor. 

"Yes,  sir;  and  according  to  his  pretension,  it  was  an 
ancient  name.     He  was,  too,  very  learned,  and  rational 


252  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

enough  on  all  points  which  did  not  relate  to  his  treasure ; 
but  on  that  indeed  he  was  obstinate." 

"  It  is  the  sort  of  malady  which  we  call  monomania," 
said  the  doctor. 

"You  never  found  anything  in  him  to  complain  oiV 
said  the  governor  to  the  jailer  who  had  charge  of  the 
abbe. 

"Never,  sir,"  replied  the  jailer,  "never;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  sometimes  amused  me  very  much  by  telling  me 
stories.  One  day  too  when  my  wife  was  ill,  he  gave  me 
a  prescription  which  cured  her." 

"Ah,  ah  ! "  said  the  doctor,  "I  was  ignorant  that  I  had 
a  competitor;  but  I  hope,  Monsieur  the  Governor,  that 
you  will  show  him  all  proper  respect  in  consequence." 

"  Yes,  yes,  make  your  mind  easy ;  he  shall  be  decently 
interred  in  the  newest  sack  we  can  find.  Will  that  sat- 
isfy you  1 " 

"  Must  we  perform  that  last  ceremony  in  your  pres- 
ence, sir  1 "  inquired  a  turnkey. 

"  Certainly.  But  make  haste  !  I  cannot  stay  here  all 
day."  There  was  a  renewed  sound  of  footsteps ;  and  a 
moment  afterwards  the  noise  of  rustling  cloth  reached 
Dantes's  ears,  the  bed  creaked  on  its  hinges,  and  the 
heavy  foot  of  a  man  who  lifts  a  weight  resounded  on 
the  floor ;  then  the  bed  again  creaked  under  the  weight 
deposited  upon  it. 

"  This  eveniug,"  said  the  governor. 

"  Will  there  be  mass  1 "  asked  one  of  the  attendants. 

"That  is  impossible,"  replied  the  governor.  "The 
chaplain  of  the  chateau  came  to  me  yesterday  to  beg  for 
leave  of  absence,  in  order  to  take  a  trip  to  Hyeres  for  a 
week.  I  told  him  I  would  attend  to  the  prisoners  in  his 
absence.  If  the  poor  abbe  had  not  been  in  such  a  hurry, 
he  might  have  had  his  requiem." 


THE  THIRD  ATTACK.  253 

"  Pooh,  pooh  ! "  said  the  doctor,  with  the  accustomed 
impiety  of  persons  of  his  profession,  "  he  is  a  churchman. 
God  will  respect  his  profession,  and  not  give  the  Devil  a 
wicked  pleasure  by  sending  him  a  priest."  A  shout  of 
laughter  followed  this  brutal  jest.  During  this  time  the 
operation  of  shrouding  the  body  was  continued. 

"This  evening,"  said  the  governor,  when  the  task  was 
ended. 

*'  At  what  o'clock  1 "  inquired  a  turnkey. 

"  Why,  about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock." 

"  ShaU  we  watch  by  the  corpse  1 " 

"  Of  what  use  would  it  be  ]  Shut  the  dungeon  as  if  he 
were  alive  ;  that  is  all." 

Then  the  steps  retreated,  and  the  voices  died  away  in 
the  distance.  The  noise  of  the  door,  with  its  creaking 
hinges  and  bolts,  ceased ;  and  a  silence  duller  than  any 
solitude  ensued,  —  the  silence  of  death,  which  embraced 
everything,  even  to  the  young  man's  frozen  soul.  Then 
he  raised  the  flag-stone  cautiously  with  his  head,  and 
looked  carefully  round  the  chamber.  It  was  empty ; 
and  Dantes,  quitting  the  passage,  entered  it. 


254:  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  CEMETERY  OF  THE  CHATEAU  d'IP. 

On  the  bed,  at  full  length,  and  faintly  lighted  by  the  pale 
ray  that  penetrated  the  window,  was  visible  a  sack  of 
coarse  cloth,  under  the  large  folds  of  which  were  stretched 
a  long  and  stiffened  form ;  it  was  Faria's  last  winding- 
sheet,  —  that  winding-sheet  which,  as  the  turnkey  said, 
cost  so  little.  All,  then,  was  completed.  A  material 
separation  had  taken  place  between  Dantes  and  his  old 
friend  ;  he  could  no  longer  see  those  eyes  which  had  re- 
mained open  as  if  to  look  even  beyond  death  ;  he  could  no 
longer  clasp  that  hand  of  industry  which  had  lifted  for  him 
the  veil  that  had  concealed  hidden  and  obscure  things. 
Faria,  the  useful  and  the  good  companion  with  whom  he 
was  accustomed  tc  live  so  intimately,  no  longer  breathed. 
He  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  that  terrible  bed,  and  fell 
into  a  melancholy  and  gloomy  revery. 

Alone  !  he  was  alone  again !  —  fallen  back  into  silence  ! 
He  found  himself  once  again  in  the  presence  of  nothing- 
ness !  Alone,  —  no  longer  to  see,  no  longer  to  hear  the 
voice  of  the  only  human  being  who  attached  him  to  life  ! 
Was  it  not  better,  like  Faria,  to  go  and  ask  of  God  the 
meaning  of  life's  enigma  at  the  risk  of  passing  through  the 
mournful  gate  of  suffering?  The  idea  of  suicide,  driven 
away  by  his  friend  and  forgotten  in  his  presence  while 
living,  arose  like  a  phantom  before  him  in  presence  of 
his  dead  body.  "  If  I  could  die,"  he  said,  "I  should  go 
where  he  goes,  and  should  assuredly  find  him  again.     But 


THE  CEMETERY   OF   THE  CHATEAU   D'IF.  255 

how  to  die?  It  is  very  easy,"  he  continued  with  a 
smile  of  bitterness  ;  "  I  will  remain  here  ;  I  will  rush  on 
the  first  person  who  opens  the  door ;  I  will  strangle 
him,  and  then  they  will  guillotine  me." 

But  as  it  happens  that  in  excessive  griefs,  as  in  great 
tempests,  the  abyss  is  found  between  the  tops  of  the 
loftiest  waves,  Dantes  recoiled  from  the  idea  of  this  in- 
famous death  and  passed  suddenly  from  despair  to  an  ar- 
dent desire  for  life  and  liberty. 

"  Die  !  oh,  no  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  not  die  now,  after  hav- 
ing lived  so  long,  and  suffered  so  much  !  It  might  have 
been  good  to  die  when  I  formed  the  purpose  to  do  so, 
years  ago  ;  but  now  it  would  be  indeed  to  give  way  to 
my  bitter  destiny.  No,  I  will  live  ;  I  will  struggle  to  the 
very  last ;  I  will  reconquer  the  happiness  of  which  I  have 
been  deprived.  Before  I  die  I  must  not  forget  that  I  have 
my  executioners  to  punish,  and  perhaps  too,  who  knows, 
some  friends  to  reward.  But  here  I  am,  forgotten  ;  and 
I  shall  go  out  from  my  dungeon  only  as  Faria  goes."  As 
he  said  this  he  remained  motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  like  a 
man  struck  witli  a  sudden  idea,  but  whom  this  idea  fills 
with  amazement.  Suddenly  he  rose,  lifted  his  hand  to 
his  brow  as  if  his  brain  were  giddy,  paced  twice  or  thrice 
round  his  chamber,  and  then  paused  abruptly  at  the  bed, 
"  Ah  !  ah  !  "  he  muttered,  "  who  inspires  me  with  this 
thought  1  Is  it  thou,  gracious  God  ]  Since  none  but  the 
dead  pass  freely  from  this  dungeon,  let  me  assume  the 
place  of  the  dead  ! " 

Without  giving  himself  time  to  reconsider  his  decision, 
and  indeed  that  he  might  allow  his  thoughts  to  be  dis- 
tracted from  his  desperate  resolution,  he  bent  over  the  appal- 
ling sack,  opened  it  with  the  knife  which  Faria  had  made, 
drew  the  corpse  from  the  sack,  and  carried  it  to  his  cell, 
laid  it  on  his  couch,  passed  round  its  head  the  strip  of 


256  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

cloth  he  wore  at  night  round  his  own,  covered  it  with  his 
counterpane,  once  again  kissed  the  ice-cold  brow  and  tried 
vainly  to  close  the  resisting  eyes,  which  remained  open, 
turned  the  head  towards  the  wall,  so  that  the  jailer  might, 
when  he  brought  his  evening  meal,  believe  that  he  was 
asleep,  as  was  his  frequent  custom,  returned  along  the  gal- 
lery, drew  the  bed  against  the  wall,  returned  to  the  other 
cell,  took  from  the  hiding-place  the  needle  and  thread,  flung 
off  his  rags,  that  they  might  feel  naked  flesh  only  be- 
neath the  coarse  sackcloth,  and  getting  inside  the  sack, 
placed  himself  in  the  posture  in  which  the  dead  body  had 
been  laid,  and  sewed  up  the  mouth  of  the  sack  on  the 
inside. 

The  beating  of  his  heart  might  have  been  heard  if  by 
any  mischance  the  jailers  had  entered  at  that  moment. 
He  might  have  waited  until  the  evening  visit  was  over, 
but  he  was  afraid  the  governor  might  change  his  resolu- 
tion and  order  the  dead  body  to  be  removed  earlier  ;  in 
that  case  his  last  hope  would  have  been  destroyed.  IS'ow 
his  project  was  settled  under  any  circumstances,  and  he 
hoped  thus  to  carry  it  into  effect.  If  on  the  way  out  the 
grave-diggers  should  discover  that  they  were  conveying  a 
live  instead  of  a  dead  body,  Dant^s  did  not  intend  to  give 
them  time  to  recognize  him,  but  with  a  sudden  cut  of  the 
knife  he  meant  to  open  the  sack  from  top  to  bottom  and 
profiting  by  their  alarm,  escape ;  if  they  tried  to  catch 
him,  he  would  use  his  knife.  If  they  conducted  him  to 
the  cemetery  and  laid  him  in  the  grave,  he  would  allow 
himself  to  be  covered  with  earth ;  and  then,  as  it  was 
night,  the  grave-diggers  could  scarcely  have  turned  their 
backs  ere  he  would  work  his  way  through  the  soft  soil  and 
escape.  He  hoped  that  the  weight  would  not  be  too  heavy 
for  him  to  support.  If  he  was  deceived  in  this,  and  the 
earth  proved  too  heavy,  he  would  be  stifled,  and  then  so 


THE  CEMETERY  OF  THE  CHATEAU  D'IF.    257 

much  the  better ;  all  would  be  over.  Dantes  had  not  eaten 
since  the  previous  evening,  but  he  had  not  thought  of 
hunger  or  thirst,  nor  did  he  now  think  of  it.  His  position 
was  too  precarious  to  allow  him  time  to  think  of  anything 
else. 

The  first  risk  that  Dantes  ran  was  that  the  jailer,  when 
he  brought  his  supper  at  seven  o'clock,  might  perceive  the 
substitution  he  had  effected  ;  fortunately,  twenty  times  at 
least,  from  misanthropy  or  fatigue,  Dantes  had  received 
his  jailer  in  bed ;  and  then  the  man  placed  his  bread 
and  soup  on  the  table,  and  went  away  without  saying 
a  word.  This  time  the  jailer  might  not  be  silent  as  usual, 
but  speak  to  Dantes,  and  seeing  that  he  received  no  reply, 
go  to  the  bed  and  thus  discover  all. 

When  seven  o'clock  came,  Dantes's  agony  really  com- 
menced. His  hand  placed  upon  his  heart  was  unable  to 
repress  its  throbbings,  while  with  the  other  he  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  his  temples.  From  time  to  time  shud- 
derings  ran  through  his  whole  frame  and  oppressed  his 
heart  as  if  it  were  seized  in  an  icy  grasp.  Then  he 
thought  he  was  going  to  die.  Yet  the  hours  passed  on 
without  any  stir  in  the  chateau,  and  Dantes  perceived  that 
he  had  escaped  this  first  danger ;  it  was  a  good  augury. 
At  length,  about  the  hour  the  governor  had  appointed, 
footsteps  were  heard  on  the  stairs.  Edmond  understood 
that  the  moment  had  arrived,  and  summoning  up  all  his 
courage,  held  his  breath ;  he  would  have  been  glad  to  re- 
press at  the  same  time  the  rapid  pulsations  of  his  arteries. 

The  footsteps  paused  at  the  door ;  there  were  steps  of 
two  persons,  and  Dantes  guessed  it  was  the  two  grave- 
diggers  who  came  to  seek  him.  This  idea  was  soon  con- 
verted into  certainty  when  he  heard  the  noise  they  made 
in  putting  down  the  hand-bier.  The  door  opened,  and  a 
dim  light  reached  Dantes's  eyes  through  the  coarse  sack 

VOL.  I.  — 17 


258  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

that  covered  him ;  he  saw  two  shadows  approach  his  bed, 
a  third  remaining  at  the  door  with  a  torch  in  his  hand. 
Each  of  these  two  men,  approaching  the  ends  of  the  bed, 
took  the  sack  by  its  extremities. 

"  He  's  heavy,  though,  for  an  old  and  thin  man,"  said 
one,  as  he  raised  the  head. 

"  They  say  every  year  adds  half  a  pound  to  the  weight 
of  the  bones,"  said  another,  lifting  the  feet. 

"  Have  you  tied  the  knot  1 "  inquired  the  first  speaker. 

"What  would  be  the  use  of  carrying  so  much  more 
weight  ? "  was  the  reply  j  "  I  can  do  that  when  we  get 
there." 

"  Yes,  you  're  right,"  replied  the  companion. 

"  What 's  the  knot  for?"  thought  Dantes. 

They  deposited  the  supposed  corpse  on  the  bier.  Ed- 
mond  stiffened  himself  in  order  to  play  his  part  of  a  dead 
man,  and  then  the  party,  lighted  by  the  man  with  the 
torch,  who  went  first,  ascended  the  stairs.  Suddenly 
Dantes  felt  the  fresh  and'^sharp  night  air,  and  he  recognized 
the  mistral.  It  was  a  sudden  sensation,  at  the  same  time 
replete  with  delight  and  agony.  The  bearers  advanced 
twenty  paces,  then  stopped,  putting  their  bier  down  on 
the  ground.  One  of  them  went  away,  and  Dantes  heard 
his  shoes  on  the  pavement. 

"  Where  am  I,  then  ?  "  he  asked  himself. 

"  Really,  he  is  by  no  means  a  light  load ! "  said  the 
other  bearer,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  hand-barrow. 
Dantes's  first  impulse  was  to  escape,  but  fortunately  he 
did  not  attempt  it. 

"  Light  me,  stupid,"  said  the  other  bearer,  "  or  I  shall 
not  find  what  I  am  looking  for."  The  man  with  the  torch 
complied,  although  not  asked  in  the  most  polite  terms. 

"What  can  he  be  looking  for?"  thought  Edmond. 
"The  spade,  perhaps." 


THE  CEMETERY  OF  THE  CHATEAU  D'IF.  259 

An  exclamation  of  satisfaction  indicated  that  the  grave- 
digger  had  found  the  object  of  his  search.  "  Here  it  is  at 
last,"  he  said,  "  not  without  some  trouble,  though." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer ;  *'  but  it  has  lost  nothing  by 
waiting." 

As  he  said  this,  the  man  came  towards  Edmond,  who 
heard  a  heavy  and  sounding  substance  laid  down  beside 
him,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  cord  was  fastened  round 
his  feet  with  sudden  and  painful  violence. 

"WeU,  have  you  tied  the  knot?"  inquired  the  grave- 
digger  who  was  looking  on. 

"Yes,  and  pretty  tight  too,  I  can  tell  you,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  Move  on,  then."  And  the  bier  was  lifted  once  more, 
and  they  proceeded.  They  advanced  fifty  paces  farther, 
and  then  stopped  to  open  a  door,  then  went  forward  again. 
The  noise  of  the  waves  dashing  against  the  rocks  on  which 
the  chateau  is  built,  reached  Dantes's  ear  distinctly  as 
they  proceeded. 

"  Bad  weather  !  "  observed  one  of  the  bearers ;  "  not  a 
pleasant  night  for  a  dip  in  the  sea." 

"  Why,  yes,  the  abbe  runs  a  chance  of  being  wet,"  said 
the  other ;  and  then  there  was  a  burst  of  laughter.  Dan- 
tes  did  not  comprehend  the  jest,  but  his  hair  stood  erect 
on  his  head. 

"  Well,  here  we  are  at  last,"  said  one  of  them. 

"  A  little  farther !  a  little  farther  ! "  said  the  other. 
"You  know  very  well  that  the  last  was  stopped  on  his 
way,  dashed  on  the  rocks,  and  the  governor  told  us  next 
day  that  we  were  careless  fellows." 

They  ascended  five  or  six  more  steps,  and  then  Dantes 
felt  that  they  took  him,  one  by  the  head  and  the  other  by 
the  heels,  and  swung  him  to  and  fro.  "  One  ! "  said  the 
grave- diggers,  "  two  !  three,  and  away  ! "   And  at  the  same 


260  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

instant  Dantes  felt  himself  flung  into  the  vast  void,  pass- 
ing through  the  air  like  a  wounded  bird,  —  falling,  falling 
with  a  rapidity  that  made  his  blood  curdle.  Although 
drawn  downwards  by  some  heavy  weight  which  hastened 
his  rapid  descent,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  fall  continued 
through  a  hundred  years.  At  last,  with  a  terrific  dash 
he  entered  the  ice-cold  water;  and  as  he  did  so  he  ut- 
tered a  shrill  cry,  stifled  in  a  moment  by  his  immer- 
sion beneath  the  waves. 

Dantes  had  been  flung  into  the  sea,  into  whose  depths 
he  was  dragged  by  a  thirty-six  pound  shot  tied  to  his  feet. 
The  sea  is  the  cemetery  of  Chateau  d  'If. 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEN.  261 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE    ISLE   OF   TIBOULEN. 

Dant£s,  although  giddy  and  almost  suflfocated,  had  yet 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  hold  his  breath  ;  and  as  his 
right  hand  (prepared  as  he  was  for  every  chance)  held  his 
knife  open,  he  rapidly  ripped  up  the  sack  and  extricated 
his  arm  and  then  his  body ;  but  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts 
to  free  himself  from  the  ball,  he  continued  to  sink.  He 
then  bent  his  body  and  by  a  desperate  effort  severed  the 
cord  that  bound  his  legs,  at  the  moment  he  was  suffoca- 
ting. With  a  vigorous  spring  he  rose  to  the  surface  of 
the  sea,  while  the  bullet  bore  to  its  depths  the  sack  that 
had  so  nearly  become  his  shroud. 

Dantes  merely  paused  to  breathe,  and  then  dived  again, 
in  order  to  avoid  being  seen.  When  he  rose  a  second 
time,  he  was  fifty  paces  from  where  he  had  first  sunk. 
He  saw  overhead  a  black  and  tempestuous  sky,  over  which 
the  wind  was  driving  the  fleeting  vapors  that  occasionally 
suffered  a  twinkling  star  to  appear ;  before  him  was  the 
vast  expanse  of  waters,  sombre  and  terrible,  whose  waves 
foamed  and  roared  as  if  before  the  approach  of  a  storm. 
Behind  him,  blacker  than  the  sea,  blacker  than  the  sky, 
rose  like  a  phantom  the  giant  of  granite,  whose  projecting 
crags  seemed  like  arms  extended  to  seize  their  prey ;  and 
on  the  highest  rock  was  a  torch  that  lighted  two  figures. 
He  fancied  these  two  forms  were  looking  at  the  sea; 
doubtless  these  strange  grave-diggers  had  heard  his  cry. 
Dantes  dived  again,  and  remained  a  long  time  beneath  the 


262  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

water.  This  manoeuvre  was  already  familiar  to  him,  and 
usually  attracted  a  crowd  of  spectators  in  the  bay  before 
the  lighthouse  at  Marseilles  when  he  swam  there,  who 
with  one  accord  pronounced  him  the  best  swimmer  in  the 
port.     When  he  reappeared  the  light  had  disappeared. 

It  was  necessary  to  strike  out  to  sea.  Ratonneau  and 
Pomegue  are  the  nearest  isles  of  all  those  that  surround 
the  Cliateau  d'lf;  but  Ratonneau  and  Pomegue  are  in- 
habited, and  so  is  the  little  island  of  Daume.  Tiboulen  or 
Lemaire  were  the  most  secure.  These  islands  are  a  league 
from  the  Chateau  d'lf;  Dantes  nevertheless  determined 
to  make  for  them.  But  how  could  he  find  his  way  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night  1  At  this  moment  he  saw  before  him, 
like  a  brilliant  star,  the  lighthouse  of  Planier.  By  leaving 
this  light  on  the  right,  he  kept  the  Isle  of  Tiboulen  a 
little  on  the  left ;  by  turning  to  the  left,  therefore,  he 
would  find  it.  But  as  v,-e  have  said,  it  was  at  least  a 
league  from  the  Chateau  d'lf  to  this  island.  Often  in 
prison  Faria  had  said  to  him  when  he  saw  him  idle  and 
inactive,  "  Dantes,  you  must  not  give  way  to  this  listless- 
ness  j  you  will  be  drowned  if  you  seek  to  escape  and  your 
strength  has  not  been  properly  exercised  and  prepared  for 
exertion."  These  words  sounded  in  Dantes's  ears,  even 
beneath  the  waves ;  he  hastened  to  cleave  his  way 
through  them  to  see  if  he  had  not  lost  his  strength.  He 
found  with  pleasure  that  his  captivity  had  taken  away 
nothing  of  his  power,  and  that  he  was  still  master  of 
that  element  on  whose  bosom  he  had  so  often  sported 
as  a  boy. 

Fear,  that  relentless  pursuer,  doubled  Dantes's  efforts. 
He  listened  to  ascertain  if  any  noise  was  audible ;  each 
time  that  he  rose  over  the  waves  his  looks  scanned  the 
horizon  and  strove  to  penetrate  the  darkness.  Every 
wave  a  little  higher  than  others  seemed  a  boat  in  his 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEK  263 

pursuit,  and  then  he  redoubled  exertions  that  increased 
his  distance  from  the  chateau,  hut  the  repetition  of  which 
reduced  his  strength.  He  swam  on  still,  and  already  the 
terrible  chateau  had  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  He 
could  not  see  it,  but  he  felt  its  presence. 

An  hour  passed,  during  which  Dantes,  excited  by  the 
feeling  of  freedom,  continued  to  cleave  the  waves.  "  Let 
us  see,"  said  he,  "I  have  swum  above  an  hour,  but  as  the 
wind  is  against  me  that  has  retarded  my  speed  ;  however, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  must  be  close  to  the  Isle  of 
Tiboulen.  But  what  if  I  were  mistaken?"  A  shudder 
passed  over  him.  He  sought  to  float  on  the  water,  in 
order  to  rest  himself;  but  the  sea  was  too  violent,  and 
he  saw  that  he  could  not  make  use  of  this  means  of 
repose. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  will  swim  on  until  I  am  worn  out, 
or  the  cramp  seizes  me,  and  then  I  shall  sink."  And  he 
struck  out  with  the  energy  of  despair. 

Suddenly  the  sky  seemed  to  him  to  become  still  darker 
and  more  dense,  and  compact  clouds  lowered  towards  him ; 
at  the  same  time  he  felt  a  violent  pain  in  his  knee.  His 
imagination  told  him  a  ball  had  struck  him,  and  that  in  a 
moment  he  would  hear  the  report ;  but  he  heard  nothing. 
He  put  out  his  hand  and  felt  resistance  ;  he  then  extended 
his  leg  and  felt  the  land  ;  he  saw  then  what  the  object  was 
which  he  had  taken  for  a  cloud. 

Before  him  rose  a  mass  of  strangely-formed  rocks  that 
resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  vast  fire  petrified  at  the 
moment  of  its  most  fervent  combustion.  It  was  the  Isle 
of  Tiboulen.  Dantes  rose,  advanced  a  few  steps,  and  with 
a  fervent  prayer  of  gratitude  stretched  himself  on  the  gran- 
ite, which  seemed  to  him  softer  than  down.  Then,  in  spite 
of  the  wind  and  rain,  he  fell  into  the  deep,  sweet  sleep  of 
those  worn  out  by  fatigue.     At  the  expiration  of  an  hour 


264  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

Edmond  was  awakened  l>y  the  roar  of  the  thunder.  The 
tempest  was  unchained  and  let  loose  in  all  its  fury  ;  from 
time  to  time  a  flash  of  lightning  ran  across  the  heavens 
like  a  fiery  serpent,  lighting  up  the  clouds  that  rolled  on 
like  the  waves  of  an  immense  chaos. 

Dantes  had  not  been  deceived  ;  he  had  reached  the  first 
of  the  two  isles,  which  is  in  fact  Tiboulen,  He  knew 
that  it  was  barren  and  without  shelter ;  but  when  the  sea 
should  become  more  calm,  he  would  plunge  into  its  waves 
again  and  swim  to  Lemaire,  equally  arid,  but  larger  and 
consequently  better  adapted  for  concealment. 

An  overhanging  rock  offered  him  a  temporary  shelter, 
and  scarcely  had  he  availed  himself  of  it  when  the  tem- 
pest burst  in  all  its  fury.  Edmond  felt  the  rock  beneath 
which  he  lay  tremble ;  the  waves,  dashing  themselves 
against  the  granite  rock,  wet  him  with  their  spray. 
In  safety  as  he  was,  he  felt  himself  become  giddy  in 
the  midst  of  this  war  of  the  elements  and  the  dazzling 
brightness  of  the  lightning.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
island  trembled  to  its  base,  and  that  it  would  like  a 
vessel  at  anchor  break  its  moorings  and  bear  him  off 
into  the  centre  of  the  storm.  He  then  recollected  that 
he  had  not  eaten  or  drunk  for  four  and  twenty  hours. 
He  extended  his  hands  and  drank  greedily  of  the  rain- 
water that  had  lodged  in  a  hollow  of  the  rock. 

As  he  rose,  a  flash  of  lightning,  that  seemed  to  open 
the  sky  even  to  the  foot  of  the  dazzling  throne  of  God, 
illumined  the  darkness.  By  its  light,  between  the  island 
of  Lemaire  and  Cape  Croiselle,  a  quarter  of  a  league  dis- 
tant, Dantes  saw,  like  a  spectre,  a  fishing-boat  driven  rap- 
idly on  by  the  force  of  the  winds  and  waves.  A  sec- 
ond after,  he  saw  it  again,  approaching  nearer.  Dantes 
cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  warn  them  of  their  danger, 
but  they  saw  it  themselves.     Another  flash  showed  him 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEN.  265 

four  men  clinging  to  the  shattered  mast  and  the  rigging, 
while  a  fifth  clung  to  the  broken  rudder. 

The  men  he  beheld  saw  him  doubtless,  for  their  cries 
were  carried  to  his  ears  by  the  wind.  Above  the  splin- 
tered mast  a  sail  rent  to  tatters  was  waving;  suddenly  the 
ropes  that  still  held  it  gave  way,  and  it  disappeared  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night  like  a  great  sea-bird.  At  the  same 
moment  a  violent  crash  was  heard,  and  cries  of  distress 
reached  his  ears.  Perched  on  the  summit  of  the  rock, 
Dantes  saw,  by  the  lightning,  the  vessel  in  pieces ;  and 
among  the  fi-agments  were  visible  heads  with  despairing 
faces,  and  arms  stretched  towards  the  sky.  Then  all  be- 
came dark  again ;  the  terrible  spectacle  had  been  brief  as 
the  lightning. 

Dantes  ran  down  the  rocks  at  the  risk  of  being  himself 
dashed  to  pieces.  He  listened,  he  strove  to  examine  ;  but 
he  heard  and  saw  nothing.  All  human  cries  had  ceased, 
and  the  tempest  alone  continued  to  rage.  By  degrees  the 
wind  abated,  vast  gray  clouds  rolled  towards  the  west,  and 
the  blue  firmament  appeared,  studded  with  bright  stars. 
Soon  a  red  streak  became  visible  in  the  horizon ;  the 
waves  whitened,  a  light  played  over  them  and  gilded 
their  foaming  crests  with  gold.     It  was  day. 

Dantes  stood  silent  and  motionless  before  this  grand 
spectacle,  for  since  his  captivity  he  had  forgotten  it.  He 
turned  towards  the  fortress  and  looked  both  at  the  sea 
and  the  land.  The  gloomy  building  rose  from  the  bosom 
of  the  ocean  with  that  imposing  majesty  of  things  im- 
movable, which  seem  at  once  to  watch  and  to  command. 
It  was  about  five  o'clock.  The  sea  continued  to  grow 
calmer. 

*'  In  two  or  three  hours,"  thought  Dantes,  "  the  turnkey 
will  enter  my  chamber,  find  the  body  of  my  poor  friend, 
recognize  it,  seek  for  me  in  vain,  and  give  the  alarm. 


266  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Then  the  passage  will  he  discovered ;  the  men  who  cast 
me  into  the  sea,  and  who  must  have  heard  the  cry  I 
tittered,  will  be  questioned.  Then  boats  filled  with 
armed  soldiers  will  pursue  the  wretched  fugitive.  The 
cannon  will  warn  every  one  to  refuse  shelter  to  a  man 
wandering  about  naked  and  famished.  The  police  of 
Marseilles  will  be  on  the  alert  by  land  while  the  governor 
pursues  me  by  sea.  I  am  cold,  I  am  hungry;  I  have 
lost  even  the  knife  that  saved  me.  Oh,  my  God,  I  have 
suffered  enough  surely !  Have  pity  on  me,  and  do  for  me 
what  I  am  unable  to  do  for  myself!" 

As  Dantes  (Ins  eyes  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  Cha- 
teau d'lf )  uttered  this  prayer  in  a  sort  of  delirium  brought 
on  by  exhaustion,  lie  saw  appear  at  the  extremity  of  the 
Isle  of  Pomegue,  like  a  bird  skimming  over  the  sea,  a 
small  vessel  that  the  eye  of  a  sailor  alone  could  recognize 
as  a  Genoese  tartan.  She  was  coming  out  of  Marseilles 
harbor,  and  was  standing  out  to  sea  rapidly,  her  sharp 
prow  cleaving  through  the  waves.  "  Oh  !  "  cried  Edmond, 
*'  to  think  that  in  half  an  hour  I  could  join  her,  did  I  not 
fear  being  questioned,  detected,  and  conveyed  back  to 
Marseilles  !  "What  can  I  do  1  What  story  can  I  invent  ? 
Under  pretext  of  trading  along  the  coast,  these  men,  who 
are  in  reality  smugglers,  will  prefer  selling  me  to  doing  a 
good  action,  I  must  wait.  But  I  cannot ;  I  am  starving. 
In  a  few  hours  my  strength  will  be  utterly  exhausted  ; 
besides,  perhaps  I  have  not  been  missed  at  the  fortress. 
I  can  pass  as  one  of  the  sailors  wrecked  last  night.  This 
story  will  pass  current,  for  there  is  no  one  left  to  contra- 
dict rae." 

As  he  spoke  Dantes  looked  towards  the  spot  where  the 
fishing-vessel  had  been  wrecked,  and  started.  The  red 
cap  of  one  of  the  sailors  hung  to  a  point  of  the  rock,  and 
some  fragments  of  the  vessel's  keel  floated  at  the  foot  of 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEN.  267 

tlie  crags.  In  an  instant  Dantes's  plan  was  formed.  He 
swam  to  the  cap,  placed  it  on  his  head,  seized  one  of  the 
fragments  of  the  keel,  and  struck  out  so  as  to  cross  the 
line  the  vessel  was  taking.  "  I  am  saved ! "  murmured 
he.     And  this  conviction  restored  his  strength. 

Edmond  soon  perceived  the  vessel,  which  having  the 
wind  right  ahead  was  tacking  between  the  Chateau  d'lf 
and  the  tower  of  Planier.  For  an  instant  he  feared  that 
instead  of  keeping  in  shore  she  would  stand  out  to  sea ; 
but  he  soon  saw  by  her  manoeuvres  that  she  wished  to 
pass,  like  most  vessels  bound  for  Italy,  between  the  islands 
of  Jaros  and  Calaseraigne.  However,  the  vessel  and  the 
swimmer  insensibly  neared  one  another,  and  in  one  of  its 
tacks  the  vessel  approached  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of 
him.  He  rose  on  the  waves,  making  signs  of  distress  ; 
but  no  one  on  board  perceived  him  and  the  vessel  stood 
on  another  tack.  Dantes  would  have  cried  out,  but  he 
reflected  that  the  wind  would  drown  his  voice.  Then  he 
rejoiced  at  his  precaution  in  taking  the  beam,  for  without 
it  he  would  have  been  unable  perhaps  to  reach  the  vessel, 
—  certainly  to  return  to  shore,  should  he  be  unsuccessful 
in  attracting  attention. 

Dantes,  although  almost  sure  as  to  what  course  the  bark 
would  take,  had  yet  watched  it  anxiously  until  it  tacked 
and  stood  towards  him.  Then  he  advanced ;  but  before 
they  had  met,  the  vessel  again  changed  her  direction.  By 
a  violent  effort  he  rose  half  out  of  the  water,  waving  his 
cap  and  uttering  a  loud  shout  peculiar  to  sailors.  This 
time  he  was  both  seen  and  heard,  and  the  tartan  instantly 
steered  towards  him.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  they  were 
about  to  lower  the  boat.  An  instant 'after  the  boat,  rowed 
by  two  men,  advanced  rapidly  towards  him.  Dantes  aban- 
doned the  beam,  which  he  thought  now  useless,  and  swam 
vigorously  to  meet  them.     But  he  had  reckoned  too  much 


268  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CKISTO. 

upon  his  strength,  and  then  he  felt  how  serviceahle  the 
beam  had  been  to  him.  His  arms  grew  stiff,  his  legs  had 
lost  their  flexibility,  and  he  was  almost  breathless. 

He  uttered  a  second  cry.  The  two  sailors  redoubled  their 
efforts,  and  one  of  them  cried  in  Italian,  "  Courage  ! " 

The  word  reached  his  ear  as  a  wave  which  he  no  longer 
had  the  strength  to  surmount  passed  over  his  bead.  He 
rose  again  to  the  surface,  supporting  himself  by  one  of 
those  desperate  efforts  a  drowning  man  makes,  uttered  a 
third  cry,  and  felt  himself  sink  again,  as  if  the  fatal  bullet 
were  again  tied  to  his  feet.  The  water  passed  over  his 
head,  and  through  the  water  he  saw  a  pale  sky  and  black 
clouds.  A  violent  effort  again  brought  him  to  the  surface. 
He  felt  as  if  something  seized  him  by  the  hair ;  but  he  saw 
and  heard  nothing.     He  had  fainted. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  Dantcs  found  himself  on  the 
deck  of  the  tartan.  His  first  care  was  to  see  what  direc- 
tion they  were  pursuing.  They  were  rapidly  leaving  the 
Chateau  d'lf  behind.  Dautes  was  so  exhausted  that  the 
exclamation  of  joy  he  uttered  was  mistaken  for  a  sigh  of 
pain. 

As  we  have  said,  he  was  lying  on  the  deck.  A  sailor 
was  rubbing  his  limbs  with  a  woollen  cloth;  another, 
whom  he  recognized  as  the  one  who  bad  cried  out  "  Cour- 
age ! "  held  a  gourd  full  of  rum  to  his  mouth ;  while  the 
third,  an  old  sailor,  at  once  the  pilot  and  captain,  looked 
on  with  that  egotistical  pity  men  feel  for  a  misfortune 
that  they  have  escaped  yesterday  and  which  may  over- 
take them  to-morrow.  A  few  drops  of  the  rum  reanimated 
the  young  man's  failing  heart,  while  the  friction  applied 
to  his  limbs  restored  their  elasticity. 

*'  Who  are  you  1 "  said  the  captain,  in  bad  French. 

"I  am,"  replied  Dantes,  in  bad  Italian,  "a  Maltese 
sailor.     We  were  coming  from  Syracuse  laden  with  grain. 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEN.  269 

The  storm  of  last  night  overtook  us  at  Cape  Morgion,  and 
•vre  Tvere  wrecked  on  these  rocks." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  1 " 

"  From  these  rocks  that  I  had  the  good  luck  to  cling  to 
while  our  captain  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  all  lost. 
I  saw  your  ship,  and  fearful  of  being  left  to  perish  on  the 
desolate  island,  I  swam  off  on  a  fragment  of  the  vessel, 
trying  to  reach  you.  You  have  saved  my  life,  and  I 
thank  you,"  continued  Dantes ;  "  I  was  lost  when  one  of 
your  sailors  caught  hold  of  my  hair." 

*'  It  was  I,"  said  a  sailor  of  a  frank  and  manly  appear- 
ance;   "and  it  was  time,  for  you  were  sinking." 

"Yes,"  returned  Dantes,  holding  out  his  hand,  "I 
thank  you  again." 

"I  almost  hesitated,  though,"  replied  the  sailor;  "you 
looked  more  like  a  brigand  than  an  honest  man,  with 
your  beard  of  six  inches  and  your  hair  a  foot  long." 
Dantes  recollected  that  his  hair  and  beard  had  not  been 
cut  aU  the  time  he  was  at  the  Chateau  d'If. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  made  a  vow  to  our  Lady  of  the 
Grotto  not  to  cut  my  hair  or  beard  for  ten  years  if  I 
were  saved  in  a  moment  of  danger ;  but  to-day  the  vow 
expires." 

"  Now  what  are  we  to  do  with  you  1 "  said  the  captain. 

*'  Alas  !  anything  you  please.  My  captain  is  dead.  I 
have  barely  escaped  ;  but  I  am  a  good  sailor.  Leave  me 
at  the  first  port  you  make ;  I  shall  be  sure  to  find  employ- 
ment on  some  merchant- vessel." 

"  Do  you  know  the  Mediterranean  1" 

**  I  have  sailed  over  it  since  my  childhood." 

**  You  know  the  best  harbors  1 " 

**  There  are  few  ports  that  I  could  not  enter  or  leave 
with  my  eyes  shut." 

"  I  say^  Captain,"  said  the  sailor  who  had  cried  "Cour- 


270  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

age  ! "  to  Dantes,  "  if  what  he  says  is  true,  what  hinders 
his  staying  with  us  ?  " 

"  If  he  says  true,"  said  the  captain,  doubtingly.  "  But 
in  the  condition  of  this  poor  devil,  one  promises  much  and 
does  what  he  can." 

"  I  will  do  more  than  I  promise,"  said  Dantes. 

"  We  shall  see,"  returned  the  other,  smiling. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  asked  Dantes. 

"To  Leghorn." 

"  Then  why,  instead  of  tacking  so  frequently,  do  you 
not  sail  nearer  the  wind  ] " 

"Because  wo  should  run  straight  on  to  the  island  of 
Rion." 

"  You  will  pass  it  more  than  twenty  fathoms  from  the 
shore." 

"Take  the  helm,  and  let  us  see  what  you  know." 

Tlio  young  man  took  the  helm,  ascertained  by  a  slight 
pressure  that  tlie  vessel  answered  the  rudder,  and  seeing 
that  without  being  a  first-rate  sailer,  she  yet  was  tolerably 
manageable,  he  cried  out,  "  To  the  braces  !  " 

The  four  seamen  who  composed  the  crew  obeyed, 
while  the  captain  looked  on. 

"  Haul  taut !  "  Dantes  continued. 

The  sailors  promptly  obeyed. 

"  Belay!  " 

This  order  was  also  executed ;  and  the  vessel  passed, 
as  Dantes  had  predicted,  twenty  fathoms  to  the  right. 

"  Bravo  !  "  said  the  captain. 

"  Bravo  !  "  repeated  the  sailors.  And  they  all  regarded 
with  astonishment  this  man,  whose  eye  had  recovered  an 
intelligence  and  his  body  a  vigor  they  were  far  from 
suspecting. 

"  You  see,"  said  Dantes,  quitting  the  helm,  "  I  shall  be 
of  some  use  to  you,  at  least  during  the  voyage.     If  you  do 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEN.  271 

not  want  me  at  Leghorn,  you  can  leave  me  there  ;  and  I 
will  pay  you  out  of  the  first  wages  I  get  for  my  food  and 
the  clothes  you  lend  me." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  captain,  "  we  can  agree  very  well,  if  you 
are  reasonable." 

"  Give  me  what  you  give  the  others,  and  all  will  he 
arranged,"  returned  Dantes. 

"That's  not  fair,"  said  the  seaman  who  had  saved 
Dantes  ;  "  for  you  know  more  than  we  do." 

"What  in  the  devil  is  that  to  you,  Jacopo?"  re- 
turned  the  captain.  "  Every  one  is  free  to  ask  what  ha 
pleases." 

"  That 's  true,"  replied  Jacopo  ;  "  I  only  made  a 
remark." 

"  Well,  you  would  do  much  better  to  lend  him  a  jacket 
and  a  pair  of  trousers,  if  you  have  them  to  spare." 

"  No,"  said  Jacopo  ;  "  but  I  have  a  shirt  and  a  pair  of 
trousers." 

"That  is  all  I  want,"  interrupted  Dantes.  "Thank 
you,  my  friend." 

Jacopo  dived  into  the  hold  and  soon  returned  with  the 
two  garments,  which  Dantes  assumed  with  unspeakable 
pleasure. 

"  Now,  then,  do  you  wish  for  anything  else  1 "  said  the 
captain. 

"  A  piece  of  bread  and  another  glass  of  the  capital  rum 
I  tasted ;  for  I  have  not  eaten  or  drunk  for  a  long  time." 
He  had  not  tasted  food  for  forty  hours.  A  piece  of  bread 
was  brought,  and  Jacopo  offered  him  the  gourd. 

"  Larboard  your  helm !  "  cried  the  captain  to  the  steers-^ 
man.     Dantes  glanced  to  the  same  side  as  he  lifted  the 
gourd  to  his  mouth ;  but  his  hand  stopped. 

"Holloa!  what's  the  matter  at  the  Chateau  d'lf]" 
said  the  captain. 


272  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

A  small  white  cloud,  which,  had  attracted  Dantes's  atten- 
tion, crowned  the  summit  of  the  bastion  of  the  Chateau 
d'If.  At  the  same  moment  the  faint  report  of  a  gun  was 
heard.     The  sailors  looked  at  o:ie  another, 

"What  does  that  mean'?"  asked  the  captain. 

"A  prisoner  has  escaped  from  the  Chateau  d'If,  and 
they  are  firing  the  alarm  gun,"  replied  Dantes.  The  cap- 
tain glanced  at  him ;  but  he  had  lifted  the  rum  to  his 
lips  and  was  drinking  it  with  so  much  composure  that 
his  suspicions,  if  he  had  any,  died  away. 

"  This  rum  is  devilish  strong,"  said  Dantes,  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  his  brow  with  his  shirt-sleeve. 

"  At  any  rate,"  murmured  the  captain,  watching  him, 
"  if  it  is  he,  so  much  the  better,  for  I  have  made  a  rare 
acquisition." 

Under  pretence  of  being  fatigued,  Dantes  asked  that  he 
might  take  the  helm  ;  the  steersman,  enchanted  to  be 
relieved,  looked  at  the  captain,  and  the  latter  by  a  sign 
indicated  that  he  might  abandon  it  to  his  new  comrade. 
Dantes  could  thus  keep  his  eyes  on  ^Marseilles. 

"  What  is  the  day  of  the  month  ? "  asked  he  of  Jacopo, 
who  sat  down  beside  him. 

"  The  28th  of  February." 

"  In  what  year  1 " 

"  In  what  year  !  you  ask  me  in  what  year  1 " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  young  man ;  "  I  ask  you  in  what 
year." 

"  You  have  forgotten  it,  then  1 " 

"I  was  so  frightened  last  night,"  replied  Dantes,  smil- 
ing, "  that  I  have  almost  lost  my  memory.  I  ask  you 
what  year  is  it  ?  " 

"The  year  1829,"  returned  Jacopo.  It  was  fourteen 
years  day  for  day  since  Dantes's  arrest.  He  was  nineteen 
when  he  entered  the  Chateau  d'Ifj  he  was  thirty-three 


THE  ISLE  OF  TIBOULEN.  273 

when  he  escaped.  A  sorrowful  smile  passed  over  his  face  ; 
he  asked  himself  what  had  become  of  Mercedes,  who  must 
believe  him  dead.  Then  his  eyes  lighted  up  with  hatred 
as  he  thought  of  the  three  men  who  had  caused  him  so 
long  and  wretched  a  captivity.  He  renewed  against  Dan- 
glars,  Fernand,  and  Villefort  the  oath  of  implacable  ven- 
geance he  had  made  in  his  dungeon.  This  oath  was  no 
longer  a  vain  menace ;  for  the  fastest  sailer  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean would  have  been  unable  to  overtake  the  little  tar- 
tan, that  with  every  stitch  of  canvas  set  was  flying  before 
the  wind  to  Leghorn. 


VOL.  I.  — 18 


274  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

THE   SMUGGLERS. 

Dant^S  had  not  been  a  day  on  board  before  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  persons  with  whom  he  sailed.  With- 
out having  been  in  the  school  of  the  Abb^  Faria,  the 
worthy  master  of  "  La  Jeune  Amelie  "  (the  name  of  the 
Genoese  tartan)  had  a  smattering  of  all  the  tongues  spoken 
on  the  shores  of  that  large  lake  called  the  Mediterranean, 
from  the  Arabic  to  the  Proven9al ;  and  this,  while  it 
spared  him  the  necessity  of  employing  interpreters,  —  per- 
sons always  troublesome  and  frequently  indiscreet,  —  gave 
him  great  facility  in  communication,  either  with  the  vessels 
he  met  at  sea,  with  the  small  barks  sailing  along  the  coast, 
or  with  those  persons  without  name,  country,  or  apparent 
calling,  who  are  always  seen  on  the  quays  of  seaports,  and 
who  live  by  those  hidden  and  mysterious  means  which  we 
must  suppose  come  straight  from  Providence,  as  they  have 
no  visible  resources.  We  may  conclude  that  Dantes  was 
on  board  a  smuggling  lugger. 

For  the  reason  given  above,  the  captain  had  received 
Dantes  on  board  with  a  certain  degree  of  mistrust.  He  was 
very  well  known  to  the  custom-house  officers  of  the  coast; 
and  as  there  was  between  these  worthies  and  himself  a 
competition  in  strategy,  he  had  at  first  thought  that  Dantes 
might  be  an  emissary  of  the  revenue  department,  who  em- 
ployed this  ingenious  means  of  penetrating  some  of  the 
secrets  of  his  trade.  But  the  skilful  manner  in  which  Dantes 
had  manoeuvred  the  little  bark  had  entirely  reassured  him ; 


THE  SMUGGLERS.  275 

and  then  when  he  saw  the  light  smoke  floating  like  a 
plume  above  the  bastion  of  the  Chateau  d'lf  aiui  heard 
the  distant  explosion,  he  was  instantly  struck  with  the 
idea  that  he  had  on  board  his  vessel  one  for  whom  they 
accord  salutes  of  cannon  as  for  kings.  This  made  him 
less  uneasy,  it  must  be  owned,  than  if  the  new-comer  had 
proved  a  custom-house  officer ;  but  this  latter  supposition 
also  disappeared  like  the  first,  when  he  beheld  the  perfect 
tranquillity  of  his  recruit. 

Edmond  thus  had  the  adA'antage  of  knowing  what  the 
owner  was,  without  the  owner  knowing  what  he  was ;  and 
in  whatever  manner  the  old  sailor  and  his  crew  attacked 
him,  he  held  firm  and  betrayed  nothing,  giving  accurate 
descriptions  of  Naples  and  Malta,  which  he  knew  as  well 
as  Marseilles,  and  persisting  stoutly  in  his  first  statement. 
Thus  the  Genoese,  subtle  as  he  was,  was  duped  by  Ed- 
mond, who  was  aided  by  his  mild  demeanor  and  his  nau- 
tical skill.  Moreover,  it  is  possible  that  the  Genoese  was 
one  of  those  shrewd  persons  who  know  nothing  but  what 
they  should  know,  and  believe  nothing  but  what  it  is  for 
their  interest  to  believe. 

It  was  thus,  in  this  reciprocal  position,  that  they 
reached  Leghorn.  Here  Edmond  was  to  undergo  another 
trial ;  it  was  to  see  if  he  should  recognize  himself  after 
fourteen  years  in  which  he  had  not  seen  his  own  features. 
He  had  preserved  a  tolerably  good  remembrance  of  what 
the  youth  had  been,  and  was  now  to  find  what  the  man 
had  become.  His  comrades  believed  that  his  vow  was 
fulfilled.  He  had  previously  touched  twenty  times  at 
Leghorn  ;  he  remembered  a  barber  in  the  Eue  St.  Ferdi- 
nand, and  went  there  to  have  his  beard  and  hair  cut.  The 
barber  gazed  in  amazement  at  this  man  with  the  long  hair 
and  thick  and  black  beard,  who  resembled  one  of  Titian's 
glorious  heads.     At  this  period  it  was  not  the  fashion  to 


276  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

wear  so  large  a  "beard  and  hair  so  long ;  now  a  barber  would 
only  be  surprised  if  a  man  gifted  with  such  advantages 
should  consent  voluntarily  to  deprive  himself  of  them. 
The  Leghorn  barber  went  to  work  without  a  single 
observation. 

"When  the  operation  was  concluded,  when  Edniond  felt 
his  chin  was  completely  smooth  and  his  hair  reduced  to 
its  usual  length,  he  called  for  a  looking-glass  in  which  he 
might  see  himself.  He  was  now,  as  we  have  said,  three 
and  thirty  years  of  age,  and  his  fourteen  years'  imprison- 
ment had  produced  a  great  moral  change,  so  to  speak,  in 
his  appearanca  Dantes  had  entered  the  Chateau  d'lf 
with  the  round  open  smiling  face  of  a  young  and  happy 
man  with  whom  the  early  paths  of  life  have  been  smooth, 
and  who  expects  the  future  to  be  a  natural  sequence  of 
the  past.  This  was  now  all  changed.  His  oval  face  was 
lengthened  ;  his  smiling  mouth  had  assumed  the  firm  and 
marked  lines  which  betoken  resolution  ;  above  his  arched 
eyebrows  appeared  a  solitary  wrinkle,  expressing  thought- 
fulness  ;  his  eyes  were  full  of  melancholy,  and  from  their 
depths  occasionally  sparkled  gloomy  fires  of  misanthropy 
and  hatred ;  his  complexion,  so  long  kept  from  the  sun, 
had  now  that  pale  color  which  produces  when  the  fea- 
tures are  encircled  with  black  hair  the  aristocratic  beauty 
of  the  man  of  the  Korth  ;  the  deep  learning  he  had  ac- 
quired had  besides  diS"used  over  his  features  the  light  of 
calm  intelligence  ;  naturally  tall,  he  had  acquired  also  the 
vigor  possessed  by  a  frame  which  has  so  long  concentrated 
all  its  force  within  itself. 

To  the  elegance  of  a  nervous  and  slight  form  had  suc- 
ceeded the  solidity  of  a  rounded  and  muscular  figure.  As 
to  his  voice,  his  prayers,  sobs,  and  imprecations  had 
changed  it,  now  into  a  soft  and  singularly  touching  tone, 
and  now  into  a  sound  rude  and  almost  hoarse.     Moreover, 


THE  SMUGGLERS.  277 

being  perpetually  in  twilight  or  darkness,  his  eyes  had 
acquired  that  singular  faculty  of  distinguishing  objects  in 
the  night  common  to  the  hyena  and  the  wolf.  Edmond 
smiled  when  he  beheld  himself;  it  was  impossible  that  his 
best  friend  —  if  indeed  he  bad  any  friend  left  —  should 
recognize  him ;  he  could  not  recognize  himself. 

The  captain  of  "  La  Jeuue  Amelie,"  who  was  very  de- 
sirous of  retaining  in  his  crew  a  man  of  Edmond's  value, 
had  offered  to  him  some  advances  out  of  his  future  profits 
wliich  Edmond  had  accepted.  His  next  care  on  leaving 
the  barber's  who  had  achieved  his  first  metamorphosis  was 
to  enter  a  shop  and  buy  a  complete  sailor's  suit,  —  a  garb, 
as  we  all  know,  very  simple,  and  consisting  of  white  trous- 
ers, a  striped  shirt,  and  a  cap.  It  was  in  this  costume, 
when  bringing  back  to  Jacopo  the  shirt  and  trousers  he 
had  lent  him,  that  Edmond  reappeared  before  the  captain 
of  "La  Jeune  Amelie,"  who  had  made  him  tell  his  story 
again.  The  captain  could  not  recognize  in  the  neat  and 
trim  sailor  the  man  wath  thick  and  matted  beard,  his  hair 
tangled  with  sea-weed,  and  his  body  soaking  in  sea  brine, 
whom  he  had  picked  up  naked  and  nearly  drowned. 
Attracted  by  his  prepossessing  appearance,  he  renewed  his 
offers  of  an  engagement  to  Dantes  ;  but  Dantes,  who  had 
his  own  projects,  would  not  agree  for  a  longer  time  than 
three  months. 

"  La  Jeune  Amelie  "  had  a  very  active  crew,  very  obe- 
dient to  their  captain,  who  was  accustomed  to  lose  as  little 
time  as  possible.  He  had  scarcely  been  a  week  at  Leg- 
horn before  the  hold  of  his  vessel  was  filled  with  painted 
muslins,  prohibited  cottons,  English  powder,  and  tobacco 
on  which  the  crown  had  forgotten  to  put  its  mark.  The 
master  was  to  get  all  this  out  of  Leghorn  free  of  duties 
and  land  it  on  the  shores  of  Corsica,  where  certain  specu- 
lators undertook  to  forward  the  cargo  to  France.     They 


278  THE  COUNT  OF   MOXTE  CRISTO. 

sailed ;  Edmond  was  again  cleaving  the  azure  sea  which 
had  been  the  first  horizon  of  his  youth,  and  of  which  he 
had  so  often  dreamed  in  prison.  He  left  Gorgone  on  his 
right  and  La  Pianosa  on  his  left,  and  went  towards  the 
country  of  Paoli  and  Napoleon.  The  next  morning,  going 
on  deck,  which  he  always  did  at  an  early  hour,  the  captain 
found  Dautes  leaning  against  the  bulwarks  gazing  with 
intense  earnestness  at  a  pile  of  granite  rocks  which  the 
rising  sun  tinged  with  rosy  light.  It  was  the  Isle  of 
Monte  Cristo.  "  La  Jeune  Amelie  "  left  it  three-quarters 
of  a  league  to  the  larboard,  and  kept  on  for  Corsica. 

Dantes  thought  as  they  passed  thus  closely  the  island 
whose  name  was  so  interesting  to  him  that  he  had  only 
to  leap  into  the  sea  and  in  half  an  hour  he  would  be  on 
the  promised  land.  But  then  what  could  he  do  without 
instruments  to  discover  his  treasure,  without  arms  to  de- 
fend himself?  Besides,  what  would  the  sailors  say; 
what  would  the  captain  think  ?  He  must  wait.  Fortu- 
nately, he  had  learned  how  to  wait ;  he  had  waited  four- 
teen years  for  his  liberty,  and  now  that  he  was  free  he 
could  wait  at  least  six  months  or  a  year  for  wealth. 
Would  he  not  have  accepted  liberty  without  riches  if  it 
had  been  offered  to  him?  Besides,  were  not  those  riches 
chimerical ;  offspring  of  the  brain  of  the  poor  Abbe  Faria, 
had  they  not  died  with  himl  It  is  true  that  letter  of  the 
Cardinal  Spada  was  singularly  circumstantial,  and  Dantes 
repeated  to  himself  from  one  end  to  the  other  the  letter, 
of  which  he  had  not  forgotten  a  word. 

The  evening  came  on,  and  Edmond  saw  the  island  pass, 
covered  with  the  tints  that  twilight  brings,  and  disappear 
in  the  darkness  from  all  eyes  except  his  own  ;  but  he, 
with  his  gaze  accustomed  to  the  gloom  of  a  prison,  con- 
tinued to  see  it  after  all  the  others,  and  he  remained  last 
upon  deck.     When  the  morning  broke  they  were  off  the 


THE  SMUGGLERS.  279 

coast  of  Aleria ;  all  day  they  coasted,  and  in  the  evening 
saw  the  fires  lighted  on  land.  By  the  arrangement  of 
these  fires  they  were  probably  informed  that  it  was  practi- 
cable to  land,  —  for  a  ship's  lantern  was  hung  np  at  the 
mast-head  instead  of  the  streamer,  and  they  neared  the 
shore  within  gunshot.  Dantes  remarked  that  the  cap- 
tain of  "  La  Jeune  Amelie "  had  as  he  neared  the 
land  mounted  two  small  culverines,  which  without  mak- 
ing much  noise  can  throw  a  ball  of  four  to  the  pound 
a  thousand  paces  or  so. 

But  on  this  occasion  the  precaution  was  superfluous,  and 
everything  proceeded  with  the  utmost  smoothness.  Four 
shallops  came  off  with  very  little  noise  alongside  the  bark, 
which,  no  doubt  in  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment, 
lowered  her  own  shallop  into  the  sea  ;  and  the  five  boats 
worked  so  well  that  by  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  all  the 
cargo  was  out  of  "  La  Jeune  Amelie "  and  on  terra 
firvia.  The  same  night,  so  systematic  was  the  captain 
of  "  La  Jeune  Amelie,"  the  profits  were  divided ;  and 
each  man  had  a  hundred  Tuscan  livres,  —  that  is  to  say, 
about  eighty  livres  of  our  money.  But  the  voyage  was 
not  ended;  they  turned  the  bowsprit  towards  Sardinia, 
where  they  intended  to  take  in  a  cargo,  which  was  to 
replace  what  had  been  discharged.  The  second  operation 
was  as  successful  as  the  first ;  "  La  Jeune  Amelie  "  was  in 
luck.  This  new  cargo  was  destined  for  the  coast  of  the 
Duchy  of  Lucca,  and  consisted  almost  entirely  of  Havana 
cigars,  sherry,  and  Malaga  wines. 

There,  in  going  out  they  had  a  bit  of  a  skirmish  with 
the  revenue  police,  that  relentless  enemy  to  the  captain  of 
"La  Jeune  Amelie."  A  custom-house  officer  was  laid  low 
and  two  sailors  were  wounded ;  Dantes  was  one  of  the 
latter,  a  ball  having  touched  him  in  the  left  shoulder. 
Dantes  was  almost  glad  of  this  affray  and  almost  pleased 


280  THE  COUNT   OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

at  being  wounded ;  they  were  rude  lessons  which  taught 
him  with  what  eye  he  could  view  danger,  and  with  what 
endurance  he  could  bear  suffering.  He  had  contemplated 
danger  with  a  smile,  and  when  wounded  had  exclaimed 
■with  the  great  philosopher,  "  Pain,  thou  art  not  an  evil !  " 
He  had  moreover  looked  upon  the  custom-house  officer 
wounded  to  death,  and  whether  from  heat  of  blood  pro- 
duced by  the  rencontre,  or  the  dulness  of  his  humane  sen- 
timents, this  sight  had  made  but  slight  impression  upon 
him.  Dantes  was  on  the  way  he  desired  to  follow,  and 
was  moving  towards  the  end  he  wished  to  achieve,  —  his 
heart  was  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  petrified.  Jacopo, 
seeing  him  fall,  had  believed  him  killed,  and  rushing 
towards  him  raised  him  up,  and  then  attended  to  him 
with  all  the  kindness  of  an  attached  comrade. 

This  world  was  not  then  so  good  as  Doctor  Pangloss 
believed  it  to  be,  neither  was  it  so  wicked  as  Dantes  had 
considered  it,  since  this  man,  who  had  nothing  to  expect 
from  his  comrade  but  the  inheritance  of  his  share  of  the 
prize-money,  testified  so  much  sorrow  when  he  saw  him 
fall.  Fortunately,  as  we  have  said,  Edmond  was  only 
wounded  ;  and  with  certain  herbs  gathered  at  certain 
seasons,  and  sold  to  the  smugglers  by  the  old  Sardinian 
women,  the  wound  soon  closed.  Edmond,  wishing  to  test 
Jacopo,  offered  him  in  return  for  his  attention  a  share  of 
his  prize-money  ;  but  Jacopo  refused  it  indignantly. 

It  resulted  therefore  from  this  kind  of  sympathetic 
devotion,  which  Jacopo  had  bestowed  on  Edmond  from 
the  first  time  he  saw  him,  that  Edmond  felt  for  Jacopo  a 
certain  degree  of  affection ;  it  was  sufficient  for  Jacopo, 
who  already  instinctively  perceived  Edmond's  superior 
rank,  —  a  superiority  concealed  from  all  others ;  and  with 
that  measure  of  regard  which  Edmond  bestowed  upon 
him  the  brave  sailor  was  content. 


THE  SMUGGLERS.  281 

Then  in  the  long  days  on  board  ship  when  the  vessel, 
gliding  on  with  security  over  the  azure  sea,  required  noth- 
ing, thanks  to  the  favorable  wind  that  swelled  her  sails, 
but  the  liand  of  the  helmsman,  Edmond  with  a  chart  in 
his  hand  became  the  instructor  of  Jacopo,  as  the  poor 
Abbe  Faria  had  been  his  instructor.  He  pointed  out  to 
him  the  bearings  of  the  coast,  explained  to  him  the  varia- 
tions of  the  compass,  and  taught  him  to  read  in  that  vast 
book  opened  over  our  heads,  called  "  the  heavens,"  where 
God  has  written  upon  the  azure  with  letters  of  diamond. 
And  when  Jacopo  asked  him,  "  What  is  the  use  of  teach- 
ing all  these  things  to  a  poor  sailor  like  me  1 "  Edmond 
replied,  "  Who  knows  ?  You  may  one  day  be  the  captain 
of  a  vessel.  Your  fellow-countryman,  Bonaparte,  became 
emperor."  We  have  forgotten  to  say  that  Jacopo  was  a 
Corsican. 

Two  months  and  a  half  elapsed  in  these  trips,  and 
Edmond  had  become  as  skQful  a  coaster  as  lie  had  been  a 
hardy  seaman  ;  he  had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  all 
the  smugglers  on  the  coast,  and  learned  all  the  masonic 
signs  by  which  these  half-pirates  recognize  each  other. 
He  had  passed  and  repassed  his  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo 
twenty  times,  but  not  once  had  he  found  an  opportunity 
of  landing  there.  He  then  formed  a  resolution :  as  soon 
as  his  engagement  with  the  captain  of"  La  Jeune  Amelie" 
ended,  he  would  hire  a  small  bark  on  his  own  account,  — 
for  in  his  several  voyages  he  had  amassed  a  hundred  pias- 
tres, —  and  under  some  pretext  land  at  the  Isle  of  Monte 
Cristo.  Then  he  would  be  free  to  make  his  researclies,  — 
not  perhaps  entirely  free,  for  he  would  be  doubtless 
watched  by  those  who  accompanied  him;  but  in  this 
world  we  must  risk  something.  Prison  had  made  Ed- 
mond prudent,  and  he  was  desirous  of  running  no  risk 
whatever.     Eut  in  vain  did  he  rack  his  imagination;  for- 


282  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

tile  as  it  was,  he  could  not  devise  any  plan  for  reaching 
the  wished-for  isle  without  being  accompanied  thither. 

Dantes  was  tossed  about  on  these  doubts  and  wishes 
when  the  captain,  who  had  great  confidence  in  him  and 
was  very  desirous  of  retaining  him  in  his  service,  took  him 
by  the  arm  one  evening  and  led  him  to  a  tavern  on  the 
Via  del'  Oglio,  where  the  leading  smugglers  of  Leghorn 
used  to  congregate.  It  was  here  they  discussed  the  affairs 
of  the  coast.  Already  Dantes  had  visited  this  maritime 
Bourse  two  or  three  times,  and  seeing  all  these  hardy  free- 
traders, who  supplied  the  whole  coast  for  nearly  two  hun- 
dred leagues,  he  had  asked  himself  what  power  might  not 
that  man  attain  who  should  give  the  impulse  of  his  will  to 
all  these  contrary  and  diverging  links.  This  time  it  was 
a  great  matter  that  was  under  discussion,  —  connected 
with  a  vessel  laden  with  Turkey  carpets,  stuffs  of  the 
Levant,  and  cashmeres.  It  was  necessary  to  agree  upon 
some  neutral  ground  on  which  an  exchange  could  be 
made,  and  then  to  try  and  land  these  goods  on  the  coast 
of  France.  If  successful,  the  profit  would  be  enormous ; 
there  would  be  a  gain  of  fifty  or  sixty  piastres  each  for 
the  crew. 

The  captain  of  "  La  Jeune  Amelie  "  proposed  as  a  place 
of  landing  the  island  of  Monte  Cristo,  which  being  com- 
pletely deserted  and  having  neither  soldiers  nor  revenue 
officers  seemed  to  have  been  placed  in  the  midst  of  the 
ocean  since  the  time  of  the  heathen  Olympus  by  Mercury, 
the  god  of  merchants  and  robbers,  —  classes  which  we  in 
modern  times  have  separated,  if  not  made  distinct,  but 
which  antiquity  appears  to  have  included  in  the  same 
category.  At  the  mention  of  Monte  Cristo  Dantes  started 
with  joy ;  he  rose  to  conceal  his  emotion,  and  took  a  turn 
round  the  smoky  tavern,  where  all  the  languages  of  the 
known  world  were  jumbled  in  a  lingua  franca.    When  he 


THE  SMUGGLERS.  283 

again  joined  the  two  persons  who  had  been  discussing,  it 
had  been  decided  that  they  should  touch  at  Monte  Cristo, 
and  set  out  on  the  following  night.  Edmond,  being  con- 
sulted, was  of  opinion  that  the  island  offered  every  possi- 
ble security,  and  that  great  enterprises,  to  be  well  done, 
should  be  done  quickly.  Nothing,  then,  was  altered  in 
the  plan  arranged,  and  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  get 
under  way  next  night,  and  wind  and  weather  permitting, 
try  to  gain  on  the  evening  of  the  following  day  the  waters 
of  the  neutral  isle. 


284:  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTEE   XXIII. 

THE    ISLE   OF    MONTE    CRISTO. 

Thus,  at  length,  by  one  of  those  pieces  of  unlooked-for 
good  fortune  "which  sometimes  occur  to  those  on  whom 
misfortune  has  for  a  long  time  spent  itself,  Dantes  was 
about  to  arrive  at  Ids  wished-for  opportunity  by  simple 
and  natural  means,  and  land  on  the  island  without  incur- 
ring any  suspicion.  One  night  only  separated  him  from 
his  expedition  so  ardently  wished  for. 

That  night  was  one  of  the  most  feverish  that  Dantes 
had  ever  passed,  and  during  its  progress  all  the  possibilities, 
favorable  and  unfavorable,  passed  through  his  brain.  If 
he  closed  his  eyes,  he  saw  the  letter  of  Cardinal  Spada 
written  on  the  wall  in  characters  of  flame ;  if  he  slept  for 
a  moment,  the  wildest  dreams  haunted  his  brain.  He 
descended  into  grottos  paved  with  emeralds,  with  walls 
of  rubies,  and  the  roof  glowing  with  diamond  stalactites. 
Pearls  fell  drop  by  drop,  as  subterranean  moisture  is  Avont 
to  drop.  Edmond,  amazed,  wonderstruck,  filled  his  pockets 
with  the  radiant  gems  and  then  returned  to  daylight,  when 
his  prizes  were  all  converted  into  common  pebbles.  He 
then  endeavored  to  re-enter  these  marvellous  grottos,  but 
now  the  way  serpentined  into  countless  paths,  and  the 
entrance  had  become  invisible.  In  vain  did  he  tax  his 
memory  for  the  magic  and  mysterious  word  which  opened 
the  splendid  caverns  of  Ali  Baba  to  the  Arabian  fisherman. 
All  was  useless ;  the  treasure  had  disappeared,   and  had 


THE  ISLE  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  285 

again  reverted  to  the  genii  from  whom  for  a  moment  he 
had  hoped  to  carry  it  off. 

The  day  came  at  length,  and  was  almost  as  feverish  as 
the  night  had  been ;  but  it  brought  reason  to  the  aid  of 
imagination,  and  Dantes  was  then  enabled  to  arrange  a 
plan  which  had  hitherto  been  vague  and  unsettled  in  his 
brain.  The  appointed  evening  arrived,  and  preparations 
were  made  for  setting  out.  These  preparations  served  to 
conceal  Dantes's  agitation.  He  had  by  degrees  assumed 
such  authority  over  his  companions  that  he  was  almost 
like  a  commander  on  board ;  and  as  his  orders  were  always 
clear,  distinct,  and  easy  of  execution,  his  comrades  obeyed 
him  with  celerity  and  pleasure. 

The  old  captain  did  not  interfere,  for  he  too  had  recog- 
nized the  superiority  of  Dantes  over  the  crew  and  himself 
He  saw  in  the  young  man  his  natural  successor,  and 
regretted  that  he  had  not  a  daughter,  that  he  might  have 
bound  Edmond  to  him  by  a  distinguished  alliance.  At 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  all  was  ready,  and  at  ten 
minutes  past  seven  they  doubled  the  lighthouse  just  as 
the  light  was  kindled.  The  sea  was  calm,  and  with  a 
fresh  breeze  from  the  southeast  they  sailed  beneath  a 
bright  blue  sky  in  which  God  also  lighted  up  in  turn 
his  beacon-lights,  each  of  which  is  a  world.  Dantes  told 
them  that  all  hands  might  turn  in,  and  he  would  take  the 
helm.  When  the  Maltese  (for  so  they  called  Dantes)  had 
said  this,  it  was  sufficient,  and  all  went  to  their  cots  con- 
tentedly. This  frequently  happened.  Dantes,  rejected 
by  all  the  world,  sometimes  felt  an  imperious  desire  for 
solitude ;  and  what  solitude  is  at  the  same  time  so  com- 
plete and  so  poetical  as  that  of  a  vessel  floating  isolated 
on  the  sea  in  the  obscurity  of  night,  in  the  silence  of 
immensity,  and  under  the  eye  of  Heaven  1 

At  this  time  the  solitude  was  peopled  with  his  thoughts, 


286  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  night  lighted  up  by  his  illusions,  and  the  silence  ani- 
mated by  his  anticipations.  When  the  captain  awoke,  the 
vessel  was  hurrying  on  with  every  sail  set  and  every  inch 
of  cloth  blown  upon  by  the  wind.  They  were  making 
nearly  ten  knots  an  hour.  The  island  of  Monte  Cristo 
loomed  large  in  the  horizon.  Edmond  resigned  the  vessel 
to  the  master's  care  and  went  and  lay  down  in  his  ham- 
mock ;  but  in  spite  of  his  previous  night  without  sleep, 
he  could  not  close  his  eyes  for  a  moment.  Two  hours 
afterwards  he  came  on  deck  as  the  boat  was  about  to 
double  the  island  of  Elba.  They  were  just  abreast  of 
Mareciana,  and  beyond  the  flat  but  verdant  Isle  of  La 
Pianosa.  The  peak  of  Monte  Cristo,  reddened  by  the 
burning  sun,  was  seen  against  the  azure  sky.  Dantes 
desired  the  helmsman  to  port  the  helm,  in  order  to  leave 
La  Pianosa  on  the  right  hand,  expecting  thus  to  decrease 
the  distance  by  two  or  three  knots.  At  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  evening  the  view  of  the  island  was  quite  distinct 
and  everything  on  it  was  plainly  perceptible,  owing  to 
that  atmospheric  brightness  which  is  peculiar  to  the  light 
which  the  rays  of  the  sun  cast  at  its  setting. 

Edmond  gazed  most  earnestly  at  the  mass  of  rocks  which 
gave  out  all  the  variety  of  twilight  colors  from  the  brightest 
pink  to  the  deepest  blue ;  and  from  time  to  time  his  cheeks 
flushed,  his  brow  became  purple,  and  a  mist  passed  over 
his  eyes.  Never  did  gamester  whose  whole  fortune  is 
staked  on  one  cast  of  the  die  experience  the  anguish 
which  Edmond  felt  in  his  paroxysms  of  hope.  Night 
came ;  and  at  ten  o'clock  they  anchored.  "  La  Jeune 
Amelie  "  was  the  first  at  the  rendezvous.  In  spite  of  his 
usual  command  over  himself,  Dantes  could  not  restrain 
his  impetuosity.  He  was  the  first  who  jumped  on  shore ; 
and  had  he  dared,  he  would,  like  Lucius  Brutus,  have 
"kissed  his  mother  earth."     It  was  dark;  but  at  eleven 


THE  ISLE  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  287 

o'clock  the  moon  rose  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  whose 
every  wave  she  silvered,  and  then,  as  she  ascended,  played 
in  floods  of  pale  light  on  the  rocky  hills  of  this  second 
Pelion. 

The  island  was  familiar  to  the  crew  of  "  La  Jeunb 
Amelie  ; "  it  was  one  of  her  halting-places.  As  to  Dantes, 
he  had  passed  it  on  his  voyages  to  and  from  the  Levant, 
hut  never  touched  at  it.  He  questioned  Jacopo.  "  Whero 
shall  we  pass  the  night?  "  he  inquired, 

"  Why,  on  board  the  tartan,"  replied  the  sailor. 

"  Should  we  not  be  better  in  the  grottos  ] " 

"  What  grottos  ]  ' 

"  Why,  the  grottos  of  the  island. ' 

*'  I  do  not  know  of  any  grottos,"  replied  Jacopo. 

A  cold  damp  sprang  to  Dantes's  brow.  "  What !  are 
there  no  grottos  at  Monte  Cristo  ] "  he  asked. 

"  None." 

For  a  moment  Dantes  was  speechless ;  then  he  remem- 
bered that  these  caves  might  have  been  filled  up  by  some 
accident,  or  even  stopped  up  for  the  sake  of  greater  se- 
curity, by  Cardinal  Spada.  The  point  was,  then,  to  dis- 
cover the  lost  opening.  It  was  useless  to  search  at  night, 
and  Dantes  therefore  delayed  all  investigation  until  the 
morning.  Besides,  a  signal  made  half  a  league  out  at 
sea,  and  to  which  "  La  Jeune  Amelie  "  also  replied  by 
a  similar  signal,  indicated,  that  the  moment  was  arrived 
for  business.  The  vessel  waiting  outside,  assured  by  the 
answering  signal  that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  soon  came 
in  sight,  white  and  silent  as  a  phantom,  and  cast  anchor 
within  a  cable's  length  of  shore. 

Then  the  landing  began.  Dantes  reflected  as  he  worked 
on  the  shout  of  joy  which  with  a  single  word  he  could 
produce  from  among  all  these  men  if  he  gave  utterance 
to  the  one  unchanging  thought  that  filled  his  heart ;  but 


288  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE   CRISTO. 

far  from  disclosing  this  precious  secret,  he  almost  feared 
that  he  had  already  said  too  much,  and  that  by  his  rest- 
lessness and  continual  questions,  his  minute  observations 
and  evident  preoccupation,  he  had  aroused  suspicions. 
Fortunately,  as  regarded  this  circumstance  at  least,  with 
him  the  painful  past  reflected  on  his  countenance  an  in- 
delible sadness  ;  and  the  glimmerings  of  gayety  seen  be- 
neath this  cloud  were  indeed  but  transitory. 

No  one  had  the  slightest  suspicion ;  and  when  next 
day,  taking  a  fowling-piece,  powder,  and  shot,  Dantes 
testified  a  desire  to  go  and  kill  some  of  the  wild  goats  that 
were  seen  springing  from  rock  to  rock,  his  wish  was  con- 
strued into  a  love  of  sport  or  a  desire  for  solitude.  How- 
ever, Jacopo  insisted  on  following  him  ;  and  Dantes  did 
not  oppose  this,  fearing  if  he  did  so  that  he  miglit  arouse 
distrust.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  gone  a  quarter  of  a 
league  than  having  killed  a  kid,  he  begged  Jacopo  to 
take  it  to  his  comrades  and  request  them  to  cook  it,  and 
when  ready  to  let  him  know  by  firing  a  gun.  Some  dried 
fruits  and  a  flask  of  the  wine  of  Monte  Pulciano  would 
complete  the  repast,  Dantes  went  forwards,  looking  be- 
hind and  round  about  him  from  time  to  time.  Having 
reached  the  summit  of  a  rock,  he  saw,  a  thousand  feet  be- 
neath him,  his  companions,  whom  Jacopo  had  rejoined, 
and  who  were  all  busy  preparing  the  repast  which  Edmond's 
skill  as  a  marksman  had  augmented  with  a  capital  dish. 

Edmond  looked  at  them  for  a  moment  with  the  sad  and 
soft  smile  of  a  man  superior  to  his  fellows.  "  In  two 
hours'  time,"  said  he,  "  these  persons  will  depart  richer  by 
fifty  piastres  each,  to  go  and  risk  their  lives  again  by  en- 
deavoring to  gain  fifty  more  such  pieces  ;  then  they  will 
return  with  a  fortune  of  six  hundred  livres  and  waste  this 
treasure  in  some  city  with  the  pride  of  sultans  and  the 
insolence  of  nabobs.     At  this  moment  hope    makes   me 


THE  ISLE  OF   MONTE  CRISTO.  289 

despise  their  riches,  which  seem  to  me  contemptible.  Yet 
perchance  to-morrow  disillusion  will  so  act  on  me  that  I 
shall  he  compelled  to  consider  such  a  contemptible  posses- 
sion as  the  utmost  happiness.  Oh,  no  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
"  that  will  not  be.  The  wise,  unerring  Faria  could  not  be 
mistaken  in  this  one  thing.  Besides,  it  were  better  to  die 
than  to  continue  to  lead  this  low  and  wretched  life." 
Thus  Dantes,  who  but  three  months  before  had  no  desire 
but  liberty,  had  now  not  liberty  enough,  and  panted  for 
wealth.  The  cause  was  not  in  Dantes,  but  in  Providence, 
who  while  limiting  the  power  of  man  has  filled  him  with 
boundless  desires. 

Meanwhile,  by  a  way  hidden  between  two  walls  of 
rock,  following  a  path  worn  by  a  torrent,  and  which  in 
all  human  probability  human  foot  had  never  before  trod, 
Dantes  approached  the  spot  where  he  supposed  the  grottos 
must  have  existed.  Keeping  along  the  coast,  and  examin- 
ing the  smallest  object  with  serious  attention,  he  thought 
he  could  trace  on  certain  rocks  marks  made  by  the  hand 
of  man. 

Time,  which  incru>sts  all  pliysical  substances  with  its 
mossy  mantle,  as  it  invests  all  things  moral  with  its  man- 
tle of  forgetfulness,  seemed  to  have  respected  these  signs, 
traced  with  a  certain  regularity,  and  probably  witli  design. 
Occasionally  these  marks  disappeared  beneath  tufts  of 
myrtle,  which  spread  into  large  bushes  laden  with  blos- 
soms, or  beneath  parasitical  lichen.  It  was  thus  requisite 
that  Edmond  should  remove  branches  or  remove  the 
mosses  in  order  to  perceive  the  indicating  marks  which 
were  to  be  his  guides  in  this  labyrinth.  These  signs  had 
renewed  hope  in  his  mind.  Why  should  it  not  have  been 
the  cardinal  who  had  first  traced  them,  in  order  that  they 
might,  in  the  event  of  a  catastrophe  which  he  could  not 
foresee  would  have  been  so  complete,  serve  as  a  guide  for 

VOL.   I,  —  19 


290  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

his  nephew  1  This  solitary  place  was  clearly  one  likely 
to  be  selected  by  a  man  desirous  of  burying  a  treasure. 
Only,  might  not  these  betraying  marks  have  attracted 
other  eyes  than  those  for  whom  they  were  made ;  and  had 
the  dark  and  wondrous  isle  indeed  faithfully  guarded  its 
precious  secret  1 

It  seemed  however  to  Edmond,  who  was  hidden  from 
his  comrades  by  the  inequalities  of  the  ground,  that  at 
sixty  paces  from  the  harbor  the  marks  ceased  ;  nor  did 
they  terminate  at  any  grotto.  A  large  round  rock,  placed 
solidly  on  its  base,  was  the  only  spot  to  which  they  seemed 
to  lead.  Edmond  reflected  that  perhaps  instead  of  having 
reached  tlie  end,  he  had  only  touched  on  the  beginning, 
and  he  therefore  turned  round  and  retraced  his  steps. 

During  this  time  his  comrades  had  prepared  the  repast, 
had  got  some  water  from  a  spring,  spread  out  the  fruit 
and  bread,  and  cooked  the  kid.  Just  at  the  moment  when 
they  were  taking  the  dainty  animal  from  the  spit,  they 
saw  Edmond,  who,  light  and  daring  as  a  chamois,  was 
springing  from  rock  to  rock,  and  they  fired  the  signal 
agreed  upon.  The  sportsman  instantly  changed  his  direc- 
tion and  ran  quickly  towards  them.  But  at  the  moment 
when  they  were  all  following  with  their  eyes  his  agile 
bounds,  the  boldness  of  which  alarmed  them,  Edmond's 
foot  slipped,  and  they  saw  him  stagger  on  the  edge  of 
a  rock  and  disappear.  They  all  rushed  towards  him,  for 
all  loved  Edmond  in  spite  of  his  superiority ;  but  Jacopo 
reached  him  first. 

He  found  Edmond  stretched  bleeding  and  almost  sense- 
less. He  had  rolled  down  a  height  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet.  They  poured  some  drops  of  rum  down  his  throat, 
and  this  remedy,  which  had  before  been  so  beneficial  to 
him,  produced  the  same  eff'ect  as  formerly.  He  opened 
his  eyes,  complained  of  great  pain  in  his  knee,  a  feeling  of 


THE  ISLE  OF   MONTE  CKISTO.  291 

heaviness  in  his  head,  and  severe  pains  in  his  loins.  They 
wished  to  carry  him  to  the  shore,  but  when  they  touched 
him,  although  under  Jacopo's  directions,  he  declared  with 
heavy  groans  that  he  could  not  bear  to  be  moved. 

It  may  be  supposed  that  Dantes  did  not  now  think  of 
his  dinner,  but  he  insisted  that  his  comrades,  who  had  not 
his  reasons  for  fasting,  should  have  their  meal.  As  for  him- 
self, he  declared  that  he  had  only  need  of  a  little  rest,  and 
that  when  they  returned  he  should  be  easier.  The  sailors 
did.  not  require  much  urging.  They  were  hungry,  and 
the  smell  of  the  roasted  kid  was  very  savory,  and  your 
tars  are  not  very  ceremonious.  An  hour  afterwards  they 
returned.  All  that  Edmond  had  been  able  to  do  was  to 
drag  himself  about  a  dozen  paces  forward  to  lean  against 
a  moss-covered  rock. 

But,  far  from  being  easier,  Dantes's  pains  had  appeared 
to  increase  in  violence.  The  old  captain,  who  was  obliged 
to  sail  in  the  morning  in  order  to  land  his  cargo  on  the 
frontiers  of  Piedmont  and  France,  between  Nice  and  Fre- 
jus,  urged  Dantes  to  try  and  rise.  Edmond  made  great 
exertions  in  order  to  comply  ;  but  at  each  effort  he  fell 
back,  moaning  and  turning  pale. 

"He  has  broken  his  ribs,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  No  matter ;  he  is  an  excellent  fellow,  and  we 
must  not  leave  him.  "We  will  try  to  carry  him  on  board 
the  tartan."  Dantes  declared  however  that  he  would 
rather  die  where  he  was  than  undergo  the  agony  caused 
by  the  slightest  movement  he  made. 

"AVell,"  said  the  captain,  "let  what  may  happen,  it 
shall  never  be  said  that  we  deserted  a  good  comrade  like 
you.     We  will  not  go  till  evening." 

This  very  much  astonished  the  sailors,  although  not  one 
opposed  it.  The  captain  was  so  strict  that  this  was  the 
first  time  they  had  ever  seen  him  give  up  an  enterprise,  or 


292  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

even  delay  an  arrangement.  Dantes  would  not  allow  that 
any  such  infraction  of  regular  and  proper  rules  should  be 
made  in  his  favor.  *'  No,  no,"  ho  said  to  the  captain,  "  I 
■was  awkward,  and  it  is  just  that  I  should  pay  the  penalty 
of  my  clumsiness.  Leave  me  a  small  supply  of  biscuit,  a 
gun,  powder,  and  balls,  to  kill  the  kids  or  defend  mj^self 
at  need,  and  a  pickaxe,  to  build  me  something  like  a  shed 
if  you  delay  in  coming  back  for  me." 

"  But  you  '11  die  of  hunger,"  said  the  captain. 

"I  would  rather  do  so,"  was  Edmond's  reply,  "than 
suffer  the  inexpressible  agonies  which  the  slightest  motion 
brings  on." 

The  captain  turned  towards  his  vessel,  which  was  lying 
in  the  small  harbor  with  her  sails  partly  set,  and  nearly 
ready  for  sea. 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  Maltese  1 "  asked  the  captain.  "  Wo 
cannot  leave  you  here  in  this  condition,  and  yet  we  can- 
not stay." 

"  Go,  go  !  "  exclaimed  Dantes. 

"  We  shall  be  absent  at  least  a  week,"  said  the  captain, 
"and  then  we  must  run  out  of  our  course  to  come  here 
and  take  you  up  again." 

"Why,"  said  Dantes,  "if  in  two  or  three  days  you  hail 
any  fishing-boat,  desire  them  to  come  here  to  me.  I  will 
pay  twenty-five  piastres  for  my  passage  back  to  Leghorn. 
If  you  do  not  come  across  one,  return  for  me." 

The  captain  shook  his  head. 

"Listen,  Captain  Baldi;  there's  one  way  of  settling 
this,"  said  Jacopo.  "Do  you  go,  and  I  will  stay  and 
take  care  of  the  wounded  man." 

"  And  give  up  your  share  of  the  venture,"  said  Edmond, 
"to  remain  with  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jacopo,  "and  without  any  hesitation." 

"  You  are  a  good  fellow  and  a  kind-hearted  messmate," 


THE  ISLE  OF  MONTE  CEISTO.  293 

replied  Edmond,  "and  Heaven  will  recompense  you  for 
your  generous  intentions ;  but  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to 
stay  with  me.  A  rest  of  one  or  two  days  will  set  me  up, 
and  I  hope  I  shall  find  among  the  rocks  certain  herbs  most 
excellent  for  contusions ; "  and  a  singular  smile  passed 
over  his  lips.  He  squeezed  Jacopo's  hand  warmly  ;  but 
nothing  could  shake  his  determination  to  remain,  —  and 
remain  alone. 

The  smugglers  left  with  Edmond  what  he  had  requested 
and  departed,  but  not  without  turning  about  several  times, 
and  each  time  making  signs  of  a  cordial  leave-taking,  to 
which  Edmond  replied  with  his  hand  only,  as  if  he  could 
not  move  the  rest  of  his  body.  Then,  when  they  had 
disappeared,  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  'T  is  strange  that  it 
should  be  among  such  men  that  we  find  proofs  of  friend- 
ship and  devotion."  Then  he  dragged  himself  cautiously 
to  the  top  of  a  rock  from  which  he  had  a  full  view  of  the 
sea,  and  thence  he  saw  the  tartan  complete  her  prepara- 
tions for  sailing,  weigh  anchor,  and  balancing  herself  as 
gracefully  as  a  water-fowl  ere  it  takes  to  the  wing,  set  sad. 
At  the  end  of  an  hour  she  was  completely  out  of  sight ;  at 
least,  it  was  impossible  for  the  wounded  man  to  see  her 
any  longer  from  the  spot  where  he  was.  Then  Dantes 
rose,  more  agile  and  light  than  the  kid  among  the  myrtles 
and  shrubs  of  these  wild  rocks,  took  his  gun  in  one  hand, 
his  pickaxe  in  the  other,  and  hastened  towards  the  rock 
on  which  the  marks  he  had  noted  terminated.  "  And 
now,"  he  exclaimed,  remembering  the  tale  of  the  Ara- 
bian fisherman  which  Faria  had  related  to  him,  —  "now, 
open  sesame  I " 


294  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTEE    XXIV. 

THE   SECRET   CAVE. 

The  sun  had  nearly  reached  the  meridian,  and  his  scorch- 
ing rays  fell  full  on  the  rocks,  which  seemed  themselves 
sensible  of  the  heat.  Thousands  of  grasshoppers,  hidden 
in  the  bushes,  chirped  with  a  monotonous  and  dull  note  ; 
the  leaves  of  the  myrtle  and  olive  trees  waved  and  rustled 
in  the  wind.  At  every  step  that  Edmond  took  he  dis- 
turbed the  lizards  glittering  with  the  hues  of  the  emerald ; 
afar  off  he  saw  the  wild  goats  bounding  from  crag  to  crag. 
In  a  word,  the  isle  was  inhabited,  yet  Edmond  felt  him- 
self alone,  guided  by  the  hand  of  God.  He  felt  an  in- 
describable sensation  somewhat  akin  to  dread,  —  that 
dread  of  the  daylight  which  even  in  the  desert  makes 
us  fear  that  we  are  observed.  This  feeling  was  so  strong 
that  at  the  moment  when  Edmond  was  about  to  commence 
his  labor,  he  stopped,  laid  down  bis  pickaxe,  seized  his 
gun,  mounted  to  the  summit  of  the  highest  rock,  and 
from  thence  gazed  round  in  every  direction. 

But  it  was  not  upon  Corsica,  the  very  houses  of  which 
he  could  distinguish,  nor  on  Sardinia,  nor  on  the  Isle  of 
Elba  with  its  historical  associations,  nor  upon  the  almost 
imperceptible  line  that  to  the  experienced  eye  of  a  sailor 
alone  revealed  the  coast  of  Genoa  the  proud  and  Leghorn 
the  commercial,  that  he  gazed.  It  was  upon  the  brigan- 
tine  that  had  left  in  the  morning,  and  the  tartan  that 
had  just  set  sail,  that  Edmond  fixed  his  eyes.  The  first 
was  just  disappearing  in  the  straits  of  Bonifacio ;    the 


THE  SECRET  CA\^.  295 

otlier,  following  an  opposite  direction,  was  about  to  round 
the  island  of  Corsica.  This  sight  reassured  him.  He 
then  looked  at  the  objects  near  him.  He  saw  himself 
on  the  highest  point  of  the  isle,  a  statue  on  this  vast 
pedestal  of  granite,  nothing  human  in  sight ;  while  the 
blue  ocean  beat  against  the  base  of  the  island  and  cov- 
ered it  with  a  fringe  of  foam.  Then  he  descended  with 
cautious  and  slow  step,  for  he  dreaded  lest  an  accident 
similar  to  that  he  had  so  adroitly  feigned  should  happen, 
in  reality. 

Dantes,  as  we  have  said,  had  traced  back  the  marks  in 
the  rock  ;  and  he  had  noticed  that  they  led  to  a  small 
creek,  hidden  like  the  bath  of  some  ancient  nymph. 
This  creek  was  sufficiently  wide  at  its  mouth  and  deep 
in  the  centre  to  admit  of  the  entrance  of  a  small  vessel 
of  the  speronare  class,  which  would  be  perfectly  concealed 
from  observation. 

Then  following  the  clew  that  in  the  hands  of  the  Abbe 
Faria  had  been  so  skilfully  used  to  guide  him  through  the 
Daedalian  labyrinth  of  probabilities,  he  thought  that  Car- 
dinal Spada,  anxious  not  to  be  watched,  had  entered  tlie 
creek,  concealed  his  little  vessel,  followed  the  line  marked 
by  the  notches  in  the  rock,  and  at  the  end  of  it  had  buried 
his  treasure.  It  was  this  idea  that  had  brought  Dantes 
back  to  the  circular  rock.  One  thing  only  perplexed 
Edmond  and  went  against  his  theory.  How  could  this 
rock,  which  weighed  several  tons,  have  been  lifted  to  this 
spot  without  the  aid  of  many  men  1  Suddenly  an  idea 
flashed  across  his  mind.  "  Instead  of  raising  it,"  thought 
he,  "  they  lowered  it."  And  he  sprang  from  the  rock  in 
order  to  inspect  the  base  on  which  it  had  formerly  stood. 
He  soon  perceived  that  a  slope  had  been  formed,  and  the 
rock  had  slid  along  this  until  it  stopped  at  the  spot  it  now 
occupied.     A  large  stone  had  served  as  a  wedge;   flints 


296  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  pebbles  had  been  inserted  around  it  so  as  to  con- 
ceal the  orifice ;  this  species  of  masonry  had  been  covered 
with  earth,  and  grass  and  weed,  had  grown  there,  moss 
had  clung  to  the  stones,  myrtle-bushes  had  taken  root, 
and  the  old  rock  seemed  fixed  to  the  earth. 

Dantes  raised  the  earth  carefully,  and  detected,  or  fan- 
cied he  detected,  the  ingenious  artifice.  He  attacked  this 
wall,  cemented  by  the  hand  of  Time,  with  his  pickaxe. 
After  ten  minutes'  labor  the  wall  gave  way,  and  a  hole 
large  enough  to  insert  the  arm  was  opened.  Dantes  went 
and  cut  the  strongest  olive-tree  he  could  find,  stripped  off 
its  branches,  inserted  it  in  the  hole,  and  used  it  as  a  lever. 
But  the  rock  was  too  heavy  and  too  firmly  wedged  to  be 
moved  by  any  one  man,  were  he  Hercules  himself.  Dan- 
tes saw  that  he  must  attack  this  wedge ;  but  how  1  He 
cast  his  eyes  around,  and  saw  the  horn  full  of  powder 
which  his  friend  Jacopo  had  left  him.  He  smiled ;  the 
infernal  invention  would  serve  him  for  this  purpose. 
With  the  aid  of  his  pickaxe  Dantes  dug  between  the 
upper  rock  and  the  one  that  supported  it  a  mine  similar 
to  those  formed  by  pioneers  when  they  wish  to  spare 
human  labor,  filled  it  with  powder,  then  made  a  match 
by  rolling  his  handkerchief  in  saltpetre.  He  lighted  it 
and  retired.  The  explosion  was  instantaneous  ;  the  upper 
rock  was  lifted  from  its  base  by  the  terrific  force  of  the 
powder ;  the  lower  one  flew  into  pieces ;  thousands  of 
insects  escaped  from  the  aperture  Dantes  had  previously 
formed,  and  a  huge  snake,  like  the  guardian  demon  of 
the  treasure,  rolled  himself  along  with  a  sinuous  motion 
and  disappeared. 

Dantes  approached  the  upper  rock,  which  now  without 
any  support  leaned  towards  the  sea.  The  intrepid  treas- 
ure-seeker walked  round  it,  and  selecting  the  spot  where 
it  seemed  most  open  to  attack,  placed  his  lever  in  one  of 


THE  SECRET  CAVE.  29^ 

the  crevices,  and  strained  every  nerve  to  move  the  mass. 
The  rock,  already  shaken  by  the  explosion,  tottered  on 
its  base.  Dantes  redoubled  his  efforts ;  he  seemed  like 
one  of  the  ancient  Titans,  who  uprooted  the  mountains  to 
hurl  them  against  the  father  of  the  gods.  The  rock 
yielded,  rolled,  bounded,  and  finally  disappeared  in  the 
ocean. 

On  the  spot  it  had  occupied  were  visible  a  circular 
place  and  an  iron  ring  let  into  a  square  flag-stone.  Dan- 
tes uttered  a  cry  of  joy  and  surprise ;  never  had  a  first 
attempt  been  crowned  with  more  perfect  success.  He 
would  fain  have  continued,  but  his  knees  trembled,  his 
heart  beat  so  violently,  and  his  eyes  became  so  dim  that 
he  was  forced  to  pause.  This  feeling  lasted  but  for  a 
moment.  Edmoud  inserted  his  lever  in  the  ring  and 
exerted  all  his  strength;  the  flag-stone  yielded  and  dis- 
closed a  kind  of  stair  that  descended  until  it  was  lost  in  th© 
obscurity  of  a  subterranean  grotto.  Any  one  else  would 
have  rushed  on  with  a  cry  of  joy.  Dantes  turned  pale, 
hesitated,  and  reflected.  "  Come,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I 
will  be  a  man.  I  am  accustomed  to  adversity  ;  I  must 
not  be  cast  down  by  disappointment.  What,  then,  would 
be  the  use  of  all  I  have  sufi'ered  1  The  heart  breaks  when 
after  having  been  elated  by  flattering  hopes,  it  sees  all 
these  illusions  destroyed.  Faria  has  dreamed  this;  Car- 
dinal Spada  buried  no  treasure  here.  Perhaps  he  never 
came  here  ;  or  if  he  did,  Caesar  Borgia,  the  intrepid  adven- 
turer, the  stealthy  and  indefatigable  plunderer,  has  fol- 
lowed him,  discovered  his  traces,  pursued  them  as  I  have 
done,  like  me  raised  the  stone,  and  descending  before  me, 
has  left  me  nothing."  He  remained  motionless  and  pen- 
sive, his  eyes  fixed  on  the  sombre  aperture  that  was  open 
at  his  feet,  and  said,  "  Now  that  I  expect  nothing,  now 
that  I  have  said  to  myself  that  it  would  be  folly  to  enter- 


298  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CKISTO. 

tain  any  Lope,  the  end  of  this  adventure  becomes  a  simple 
matter  of  curiosity."  And  he  still  remained  motionless 
and  thoughtful. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  this  is  an  adventure  worthy  a  place  in  the 
lights  and  shades  of  the  life  of  this  royal  bandit.  This 
fabulous  event  has  formed  but  a  link  of  a  vast  chain. 
Yes,  Borgia  has  been  here,  a  torch  in  one  hand,  a  sword 
in  the  other,  and  within  twenty  paces,  at  the  foot  of  this 
rock  perhaps,  two  guards  kept  watch  on  land  and  sea 
while  their  master  descended  as  I  am  about  to  descend, 
dispelling  the  darkness  before  his  terrible  advance." 

"  But  what  was  the  fate  of  these  guards  who  thus  pos- 
sessed his  secret  1 "  asked  Dantes  of  himself. 

"  The  fate,"  replied  he,  smiling,  "  of  those  who  buried 
Alaric." 

"Yet  had  he  come,"  thought  Dantes,  "he  would  have 
found  the  treasure ;  and  Borgia,  he  who  compared  Italy  to 
an  artichoke  which  he  could  devour  leaf  by  leaf,  knew 
too  well  the  value  of  time  to  waste  it  in  replacing  this 
rock.     I  will  go  down." 

Then  he  descended  with  a  smile  of  doubt  on  his  lips, 
and  murmuring  that  last  word  of  human  philosophy, 
"  Perhaps  ! "  But  instead  of  the  darkness  and  the  thick 
and  mephitic  atmosphere  he  had  expected  to  find,  Dantes 
saw  a  dim  and  bluish  light  which,  as  well  as  the  air, 
entered,  not  merely  by  the  aperture  he  had  just  formed, 
but  by  interstices  and  crevices  of  the  rock  which  were 
invisible  from  without,  and  through  which  he  could  dis- 
tinguish the  blue  sky  and  the  waving  branches  of  the 
evergreen  oaks  and  the  tendrils  of  the  creepers  that  grew 
from  the  rocks.  After  having  stood  a  few  minutes  in  the 
cavern,  the  atmosphere  of  which  was  rather  warm  than 
damp,  Dantes's  eye,  habituated  as  it  was  to  darkness,  could 
pierce  even  to  the  remotest  angles  of  the  cavern,  which 


THE  SECRET  CAVE.  299 

was  of  granite  that  sparkled  like  diamonds.  "  Alas  ! " 
said  Edmond,  smiling,  "  these  are  the  treasures  the  cardi- 
nal has  left ;  and  the  good  abb^,  seeing  in  a  dream  these 
glittering  walls,  has  indulged  in  fallacious  hopes." 

But  he  called  to  mind  the  words  of  the  will,  which  he 
knew  by  heart.  "In  the  farthest  angle  of  the  second 
opening,"  said  the  cardinal's  will.  He  had  found  only 
the  first  grotto ;  he  had  now  to  seek  the  second.  Dantes 
began  his  search.  He  reflected  that  this  second  grotto 
would  naturally  penetrate  deeper  into  the  island;  he 
examined  the  stones  and  sounded  one  part  of  the  wall 
where  he  fancied  the  opening  existed,  masked  for  precau- 
tion's sake.  The  pickaxe  sounded  for  a  moment  with  a 
dull  sound  that  covered  Dantes's  forehead  with  large 
drops  of  perspiration.  At  last  it  seemed  to  him  that  one 
part  of  the  wall  gave  forth  a  more  hollow  and  deeper 
echo;  he  eagerly  advanced,  and  with  the  quickness  of 
perception  that  no  one  but  a  prisoner  possesses,  saw  that 
it  was  there  in  aU  probability  the  opening  must  be. 

However,  he,  like  Csesar  Borgia,  knew  the  value  of 
time;  and  in  order  to  avoid  a  fruitless  toil,  he  sounded  all 
the  other  walls  with  his  pickaxe,  struck  the  earth  with 
the  butt  of  his  gun,  and  finding  nothing  that  appeared 
suspicious,  returned  to  that  part  of  the  wall  whence  issued 
the  encouraging  sound  he  had  before  heard.  He  again 
struck  it,  and  with  greater  force.  Then  a  singular  sight 
presented  itself.  As  he  struck  the  wall,  a  species  of  stucco 
similar  to  that  used  as  the  ground  of  arabesques  detached 
itself,  and  fell  to  the  ground  in  flakes,  exposing  a  large 
white  stone.  The  aperture  of  the  rock  had  been  closed 
■with  stones,  then  this  stucco  had  been  applied,  and 
painted  to  imitate  granite.  Dantes  struck  with  the  sharp 
end  of  his  pickaxe,  which  entered  some  way  between  the 
interstices  of  the  stone.     It  was  there  he  must  dig.     But 


300  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

by  some  strange  phenomenon  of  the  human  organization, 
in  proportion  as  the  proofs  that  Faria  had  not  been  de- 
ceived became  stronger,  so  did  his  heart  give  way  and  a 
feeling  of  discouragement  steal  over  him.  This  last  proof 
instead  of  giving  him  fresh  strength  deprived  him  of  it. 
The  pickaxe  fell,  almost  dropping  out  of  his  hands ;  he 
placed  it  on  the  ground,  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow, 
and  remounted  the  stairs,  alleging  to  himself  as  an  excuse 
a  desire  to  be  assured  that  no  one  was  watching  him,  but 
in  reality  because  he  felt  he  was  ready  to  faint.  The  isle 
was  deserted,  and  the  sun  seemed  to  cover  it  with  its 
fiery  glance ;  afar  off  a  few  small  fishing-boats  studded 
the  bosom  of  the  blue  ocean. 

Dantes  had  tasted  nothing,  but  he  thought  not  of  hun- 
ger at  such  a  moment ;  he  hastily  swallowed  a  few  drops 
of  rum  and  again  entered  the  cavern.  The  pickaxe  that 
had  seemed  so  heavy  was  now  like  a  feather  in  his  grasp  ; 
he  seized  it  and  attacked  the  wall.  After  several  blows 
he  perceived  that  the  stones  were  not  cemented,  but 
merely  placed  one  upon  the  other  and  covered  with 
stucco ;  he  inserted  the  point  of  his  pickaxe,  and  using 
the  handle  as  a  lever,  soon  saw  with  joy  the  stone  turn  as 
if  on  hinges  and  fall  at  his  feet.  He  had  nothing  more 
to  do  now  but  with  the  iron  tooth  of  the  pickaxe  to  draw 
the  stones  towards  him  one  by  one.  The  first  aperture 
was  sufficiently  large  to  enter,  but  by  waiting,  he  could 
still  cling  to  hope  and  retard  the  certainty  of  deception. 
At  last,  after  fresh  hesitation  Dantes  entered  the  second 
grotto.  The  second  grotto  was  lower  and  more  gloomy 
than  the  other ;  the  air,  that  could  enter  only  by  the 
newly-formed  opening,  had  that  mephitic  smell  Dantes 
was  surprised  not  to  find  in  the  first.  He  waited  in  order 
to  allow  pure  air  to  displace  the  foul  atmosphere,  and  then 
entered.     At  the  left  of  the  opening  was  a  dark  and  deep 


THE  SECRET  CAVE.  301 

angle.  But  to  Dantes's  eye  there  was  no  darkness.  He 
glanced  round  this  second  grotto ;  it  was,  like  the  first, 
empty. 

The  treasure,  if  it  existed,  was  buried  in  that  dark 
corner.  The  time  had  at  length  arrived ;  two  feet  of 
earth  removed,  and  Dantes's  fate  would  be  decided.  He 
advanced  towards  the  angle,  and  summoning  all  his  resolu- 
tion, attacked  the  ground  with  the  pickaxe.  At  the  fifth 
or  sixth  blow  the  pickaxe  struck  against  an  iron  substance. 
Never  did  funeral  knell,  never  did  alarm-bell  produce  a 
greater  effect  on  the  hearer.  Had  Dantes  found  nothing, 
he  could  not  have  become  more  ghastly  pale.  He  again 
struck  his  pickaxe  into  the  earth,  and  encountered  the 
same  resistance,  but  not  the  same  sound.  "  It  is  a  casket 
of  wood  bound  with  iron,"  thought  he.  At  this  moment 
a  shadow  passed  rapidly  before  the  opening ;  Dantes 
seized  his  gun,  sprang  through  the  opening,  and  mounted 
the  stair.  A  wild  goat  had  passed  before  the  mouth  of 
the  cave,  and  was  feeding  at  a  little  distance.  This  would 
have  been  a  favorable  opportunity  to  secure  his  dinner ; 
but  Dantes  feared  lest  the  report  of  his  gun  should  attract 
attention. 

He  reflected  an  instant,  cut  a  branch  of  a  resinous  tree, 
lighted  it  at  the  fire  at  which  the  smugglers  had  prepared 
their  breakfast,  and  descended  with  this  torch.  He  wished 
to  see  all.  He  approached  with  the  torch  the  hole  he  had 
formed,  and  saw  that  his  pickaxe  had  in  reality  struck 
against  iron  and  wood.  He  planted  his  torch  in  the 
ground  and  resumed  his  labor.  In  an  instant  a  space 
three  feet  long  by  two  feet  broad  was  cleared,  and  Dantes 
could  see  an  oaken  coffer,  bound  with  cut  steel ;  in  the 
midst  of  the  lid  he  saw  engraved  on  a  silver  plate,  which 
was  still  untarnished,  the  arms  of  the  Spada  family; 
namely,  a   sword,  pale,  on   an  oval  shield,  like  all   the 


302  THE  COUNT   OF   MONTE  CRISTO, 

Italian  armorial  bearings,  and  surmounted  by  a  cardinal's 
hat.  Dantes  easily  recognized  them,  Faria  had  so  often 
drawn  them  for  him.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt,  — 
the  treasure  was  there ;  no  one  would  have  been  at  such 
pains  to  conceal  an  empty  casket.  In  an  instant  he  had 
cleared  every  obstacle  away,  and  he  saw  successively  the 
lock,  placed  between  two  padlocks,  and  the  two  handles 
at  each  end,  all  carved  as  things  were  carved  at  that  epoch, 
when  art  rendered  the  commonest  metals  precious.  Dantes 
seized  the  handles,  and  strove  to  lift  the  coffer;  it  was 
impossible.  He  sought  to  open  it ;  lock  and  padlock  were 
closed,  —  these  faithful  guardians  seemed  unwilling  to  sur- 
render their  trust.  Dantes  inserted  the  sharp  end  of  the 
pickaxe  between  the  coffer  and  the  lid,  and  pressing  Avith 
all  his  force  on  the  handle,  burst  open  the  fastenings. 
The  hinges  yielded  Ln  their  turn  and  fell,  still  holding 
in  their  grasp  fragments  of  the  planks,  and  all  was  open. 

A  vertigo  seized  Edmond ;  he  cocked  his  gun  and  laid 
it  beside  him.  He  then  closed  his  eyes  as  children  do  in 
order  to  perceive  in  the  shining  night  of  their  own  imagi- 
nation more  stars  than  are  visible  in  the  firmament ;  then 
he  reopened  them  and  stood  motionless  with  amazement. 
Three  compartments  divided  the  coffer.  In  the  first,  blazed 
piles  of  golden  coin ;  in  the  second,  bars  of  unpolished 
gold,  which  possessed  nothing  attractive  save  their  value, 
were  ranged ;  in  the  third,  Edmond  grasped  handfuls  of 
diamonds,  pearls,  and  rubies,  which  as  they  fell  on  one 
another  sounded  like  hail  against  glass.  After  having 
touched,  felt,  examined  these  treasures,  Edmond  rushed 
through  the  caverns  like  a  man  seized  with  frenzy ;  he 
leaped  on  a  rock  whence  he  could  behold  the  sea.  He 
was  alone,  —  alone  with  these  countless,  these  unheard-of 
treasures !     "Was  he  awake,  or  was  it  but  a  dream  ] 

He  would  fain  have  gazed  upon  his  gold,  and  yet  he 


THE  SECRET  CAVE.  303 

had  not  strength  enough.  For  an  instant  he  leaned  his 
head  in  his  hands  as  if  to  prevent  his  senses  from  leaving 
him,  and  then  rushed  madly  about  the  rocks  of  Monte 
Cristo,  terrifying  the  wild  goats  and  scaring  the  sea-fowls 
with  his  wild  cries  and  gestures ;  then  he  returned,  and 
still  unable  to  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses,  rushed 
into  the  grotto  and  found  himself  before  this  mine  of 
gold  and  jewels.  This  time  he  feU  on  his  knees,  and 
clasping  his  hands  convulsively,  uttered  a  prayer  intelligi- 
ble to  God  alone.  He  soon  felt  himself  calmer  and  more 
happy,  for  now  only  he  began  to  credit  his  felicity.  He 
then  set  himself  to  work  to  count  his  fortune.  There 
■were  a  thousand  ingots  of  gold,  each  weighing  from  two 
to  three  pounds ;  then  he  piled  up  twenty-five  thousand 
crowns,  each  worth  about  eighty  livres  of  our  money  and 
bearing  the  effigies  of  Alexander  YI.  and  his  predecessors, 
and  he  saw  that  the  compartment  was  only  half  empty. 
Then  he  measured  ten  double  handfuls  of  precious  stones, 
many  of  which,  mounted  by  the  most  famous  workman 
of  that  period,  exhibited  in  their  artistic  setting  a  value 
that  was  remarkable  even  by  the  side  of  their  intrinsic 
value.  Dantes  saw  the  light  gradually  disappear,  and 
fearing  to  be  surprised  in  the  cavern,  left  it,  his  gun  in 
his  hand.  A  piece  of  biscuit  and  a  small  quantity  of  rum 
formed  his  supper,  and  he  snatched  a  few  hours'  sleep, 
lying  across  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

This  night  was  a  delicious  and  yet  terrible  one,  like 
two  or  three  others  which  that  man  of  strong  emotion 
had  already  experienced  in  his  previous  life. 


304  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   UNKNOAVN. 

Daylight,  for  which  Dantes  had  so  eagerly  and  impa- 
tiently waited,  again  dawned  upon  the  desert  shores  of 
Monte  Cristo.  In  the  earliest  light  Dautes  rose,  climhed 
the  rocky  height  he  had  ascended  the  previous  evening, 
and  strained  his  view  to  catch  every  peculiarity  of  the 
landscape ;  hut  it  wore  the  same  wild,  harren  aspect  when 
seen  hy  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  which  it  had  done 
when  surveyed  by  the  fading  glimmer  of  eve.  Returning 
to  the  cave,  he  raised  the  stone,  fiUed  his  pockets  with 
precious  stones,  put  the  box  together  as  well  and  securely 
as  he  could,  sprinkled  fresh  sand  over  the  spot  from  which 
it  had  been  taken,  and  carefully  trod  down  the  ground  to 
give  it  everywhere  a  similar  appearance ;  then,  quitting 
the  grotto,  he  replaced  the  stone,  heaped  on  it  broken 
masses  of  rocks  and  rough  fragments  of  crumbling  granite, 
filling  the  intervals  with  earth,  planted  myrtle  and  flower- 
ing thorn  in  these  intervals,  watered  the  new  plants  so 
that  they  should  seem  of  long  standing,  effaced  the  traces 
of  his  footsteps  around  the  place,  and  awaited  with  impa- 
tience the  return  of  his  companions.  He  had  no  desire 
to  spend  his  days  looking  at  that  gold  and  those  diamonds, 
or  to  remain  at  Monte  Cristo  like  a  dragon  watching  over 
useless  treasures.  It  was  now  necessary  for  him  to  return 
to  life,  to  be  among  men,  and  to  assume  in  society  the 
rank,  influence,  and   power  which  in  this  world  wealth 


THE  UNKNOWN.  305 

alone  can  give,  —  the  first  and  grandest  of  the  forces  at 
the  disposal  of  man. 

On  the  sixth  day  the  smugglers  returned.  From  a  dis- 
tance Dantes  recognized  "  La  Jeune  Amelie,"  and  dragging 
himself  with  affected  difficulty  towards  the  landing-place, 
he  met  his  companions  with  an  assurance  that  although 
considerably  better  than  when  they  quitted  him,  he  still 
suffered  acutely  from  his  late  accident.  He  then  inquired 
how  they  had  fared  in  their  trip.  To  this  question  the 
smugglers  replied  that  although  successful  in  landing 
their  cargo  in  safety,  tliey  had  scarcely  done  so  when  they 
received  intelligence  that  a  guard-ship  had  just  quitted  the 
port  of  Toulon  and  was  crowding  all  sail  towards  them  ; 
this  obliged  them  to  make  all  the  speed  they  could  to 
evade  the  enemy,  —  lamenting  the  absence  of  Dantes, 
whose  superior  skill  in  the  management  of  a  vessel  would 
have  availed  them  so  materially.  In  fact,  the  chasing 
vessel  had  almost  overtaken  them  when  fortunately  night 
came  on,  and  enabled  them  to  double  the  Cape  of  Corsica, 
and  so  elude  all  further  pursuit.  Upon  the  whole,  how- 
ever, the  trip  had  been  sufficiently  successful  to  satisfy  all 
concerned  ;  the  crew,  and  particularly  Jacopo,  expressed 
great  regret  that  Dantes  had  not  been  with  them,  so  that 
he  might  have  been  an  equal  sharer  with  themselves  in 
the  profits,  amounting  to  no  less  a  sum  than  fifty  piastres 
each. 

Edmond  remained  impenetrable,  —  not  even  smiling  at 
the  enumeration  of  all  the  benefits  he  would  have  reaped 
had  he  been  able  to  quit  the  isle ;  but  as  "La  Jeune 
Amelie "  had  merely  come  to  Monte  Cristo  to  fetch  him 
away,  he  embarked  that  same  evening  and  proceeded  with 
the  captain  to  Leghorn.  Arrived  at  Leghorn,  he  repaired 
to  the  house  of  a  Jew,  a  dealer  in  precious  stones,  to  whom 
he  disposed  of  four  of  his  smallest  diamonds  for  five  thou- 

VOL.   I.  —  20 


306  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

sand  livres  each.  Dantes  half  feared  that  such  valuahle 
jewels  in  the  hands  of  a  poor  sailor  like  himself  might  ex- 
cite suspicion  ;  but  the  cunning  purchaser  asked  no  trouble- 
some questions  concerning  a  bargain  by  which  he  gained 
at  least  four  thousand  livres. 

The  following  day  Dantes  presented  Jacopo  with  an  en- 
tirely new  vessel,  accompanying  the  gift  by  a  donation  of 
one  hundred  piastres,  that  he  might  provide  himself  with 
a  suitable  crew  and  other  requisites  for  his  outfit,  —  upon 
condition  that  he  should  go  direct  to  Marseilles  and  in- 
quire after  an  old  man  named  Louis  Dantes,  residing  in 
the  Alices  de  Meillan,  and  also  a  young  woman  called 
Mercedes,  an  inhabitant  of  the  Catalan  village. 

It  was  Jacopo's  turn  to  think  that  he  was  dreaming. 
Dantes  told  him  that  he  had  been  a  sailor  merely  from 
whim  and  a  desire  to  spite  his  friends,  who  did  not  allow 
him  as  much  money  as  he  liked  to  spend  ;  but  that  on  his 
arrival  at  Leghorn  he  had  come  into  possession  of  a  large 
fortune,  left  him  by  an  uncle,  whose  sole  heir  he  was. 
The  superior  education  of  Dantes  gave  an  air  of  such 
extreme  probability  to  this  statement  that  it  never  once 
occurred  to  Jacopo  to  doubt  its  accuracy.  The  term  for 
which  Edmond  had  engaged  to  serve  on  board  "  La  Jeune 
Amelie  "  having  expired,  Dantes  took  leave  of  the  captain, 
who  at  first  tried  all  his  powers  of  persuasion  to  induce 
him  to  remain  one  of  the  crew,  but  having  been  told  the 
history  of  the  legacy,  he  ceased  to  importune  him  further. 
The  succeeding  morning  Jacopo  set  sail  for  Marseilles, 
with  directions  from  Dantes  to  join  him  at  the  island  of 
Monte  Cristo. 

Having  seen  Jacopo  fairly  out  of  the  harbor,  Dantes  pro- 
ceeded to  make  his  final  adieux  on  board  "  La  Jeune 
Amelie,"  distributing  so  liberal  a  gratuity  among  her  crew 
as  procured  him  the  unanimous  good  wishes  and  expres- 


THE   UNKNOWN.  307 

sions  of  cordial  interest  in  all  that  concerned  him.  To 
the  captain  he  promised  to  write  when  he  had  luade  up 
his  mind  as  to  his  future  plans.  This  leave-takin<^'  over, 
Dantes  departed  for  Genoa.  At  the  moment  of  his  arrival  a 
small  yacht  was  making  its  trial  trip  in  the  bay ;  it  had  been 
built  by  order  of  an  Englishman,  who,  having  heard  that  tlie 
Genoese  excelled  all  other  builders  along  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean  in  the  construction  of  fast-sailing  vessels, 
was  desirous  of  possessing  a  specimen  of  their  skill.  The 
price  agreed  upon  between  the  Englishman  and  the  Geno- 
ese builder  was  forty  thousand  livres.  Dantes  offered 
sixty  thousand  livres  for  it  upon  condition  that  it  should 
be  delivered  to  him  immediately.  The  person  for  whom 
the  yacht  was  intended  had  gone  upon  a  tour  through 
Switzerland,  and  was  not  expected  back  in  less  tlian  tliree 
weeks  or  a  month,  by  which  time  the  builder  reckoned 
upon  being  able  to  complete  another.  A  bargain  was 
therefore  struck.  Dantes  led  the  owner  of  the  yacht  to 
the  dwelling  of  a  Jew,  retired  with  the  latter  individual 
for  a  few  minutes  to  a  small  back  parlor,  and  upon  their 
return  the  Jew  counted  out  to  the  ship-builder  the  sum  of 
sixty  thousand  livres. 

The  builder  then  offered  his  services  in  providing  a  suit- 
able crew  for  the  little  vessel,  but  this  Dantes  declined 
with  thanks,  saying  he  was  accustomed  to  cruise  about 
quite  alone,  and  his  principal  pleasure  consisted  in  manag- 
ing his  yacht  himself ;  the  only  thing  he  wished  was  that 
the  builder  would  contrive  a  sort  of  secret  closet  in  the 
cabin  at  his  bed's  head,  which  should  contain  three  secret 
compartments.  He  gave  the  measure  of  these  compart- 
ments, which  were  completed  on  the  following  day. 

Two  hours  afterwards  Dantes  sailed  from  the  port  of 
Genoa,  under  the  gaze  of  an  immense  crowd  of  the  curious 
who  wished  to  see  the  rich  Spanish  nobleman  who  pre- 


308  THE  COUNT   OF   MONTE   CRISTO. 

ferred  managing  his  vessel  himself.  Dantes  handled  his 
vessel  admirably;  and  by  aid  of  the  lielm,  and  without 
having  occasion  to  leave  it,  he  made  his  yacht  perform  all 
the  movements  he  wished.  It  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  in- 
spired by  intelligence,  so  promptly  did  it  obey  the  slight- 
est impulse  given  ;  and  Dantes  required  but  a  short  trial 
of  his  beautiful  craft  to  convince  himself  that  the  Genoese 
deserved  their  high  reputation  in  the  art  of  ship-building. 
The  spectators  followed  the  little  vessel  witli  their  eyes  so 
long  as  it  remained  visible  ;  they  then  turned  their  conjec- 
tures upon  her  probable  destination.  Some  insisted  she 
was  making  for  Corsica,  others  for  the  island  of  Elba  : 
bets  were  offered  that  she  was  bound  for  Spain,  while 
some  maintained  that  she  was  going  to  Africa ;  but  no  one 
thought  of  Monte  Cristo. 

Nevertheless  it  was  to  ]Monte  Cristo  that  Dantes  went. 
He  arrived  at  the  close  of  the  second  day  ;  his  yacht  had 
proved  lierself  a  first-class  sailer,  and  had  come  the  dis- 
tance from  Genoa  in  thirty-five  hours.  Dantes  had  care- 
fully noted  the  general  appearance  of  the  shore,  and 
instead  of  landing  at  the  usual  place,  he  dropped  anchor 
in  the  little  creek.  The  isle  was  utterly  deserted,  nor  did 
it  seem  as  though  human  foot  had  trodden  on  it  since  he 
quitted  it.  His  treasure  was  just  as  he  had  left  it.  Early 
on  the  following  morning  he  began  the  removal  of  his 
riches,  and  ere  nightfall  the  whole  of  his  immense  wealth 
was  safely  deposited  in  the  secret  compartments  of  his 
hidden  closet. 

A  week  passed  by.  Dantes  employed  it  in  trying  the 
sailing  qualities  of  his  yacht, —  studying  it  as  a  skilful 
horseman  would  the  animal  he  destined  for  some  impor- 
tant service,  —  till  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  was  per- 
fectly conversant  with  its  good  and  bad  qualities.  The 
former  he  proposed  to  augment,  the  latter  to  remedy. 


THE  UNKNOWN.  309 

Upon  the  eighth  day  he  discerned  a  small  vessel  crowd- 
ing all  sail  towards  Monte  Cristo.  As  it  neared,  he  recog- 
nized it  as  the  vessel  which  he  had  given  to  Jacopo.  He 
immediately  signalled  it.  His  signal  was  returned,  and 
in  two  hours  afterward  the  bark  lay  at  anchor  near  the 
yacht.  A  mournful  answer  awaited  each  of  Edmond's 
eager  inquiries.  Old  Dantes  was  dead ;  Mercedes  had 
disappeared.  Dantes  listened  to  these  melancholy  tid- 
ings with  outward  calmness ;  but  when  he  went  ashore 
he  signified  his  desire  to  be  quite  alone.  In  a  couple  of 
hours  he  returned.  Two  of  the  men  from  Jacopo's  bark 
came  on  board  the  yacht  to  assist  in  navigating  it,  and 
he  commanded  that  she  should  be  steered  direct  to  Mar- 
seilles. For  his  father's  death  he  was  in  some  manner 
prepared ;   but  what  had  become  of  Mercedes  ? 

Without  divulging  his  secret,  Dantes  could  not  give 
sufficiently  clear  instructions  to  an  agent.  There  were, 
besides,  other  particulars  he  was  desirous  of  ascertaining, 
and  those  were  of  a  nature  he  alone  could  investigate  in 
a  manner  satisfactory  to  himself.  His  looking-glass  had 
assured  him  during  his  stay  at  Leghorn  that  he  ran  no 
risk  of  recognition ;  and  besides,  he  had  now  the  means 
of  adopting  any  disguise  he  thought  proper.  One  fine 
morning,  then,  his  yacht,  followed  by  the  little  vessel, 
boldly  entered  the  port  of  Marseilles,  and  anchored  ex- 
actly opposite  the  memorable  spot  whence,  on  the  never- 
to-be-forgotten  night  of  his  departure  for  the  Ciiateau  d'lf, 
he  had  been  put  on  board  the  vessel  destined  to  convey 
him  thither.  Dantes  could  not  view  without  a  shudder 
the  approach  of  a  gendarme  in  the  quarantine  boat ;  but 
with  that  self-possession  which  he  had  acquired  during 
bis  acquaintance  with  Faria,  Dantes  coolly  presented 
an  English  passport  he  had  purchased  at  Leghorn,  and 
by  means  of  that  foreign  passport,  much  more  respected 


310  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CPJSTO. 

in  France  tlian  our  own,  Dantes  was  able  to  land  with- 
out difficulty. 

The  first  object  that  attracted  the  attention  of  Dantes 
as  he  landed  on  the  Canebiere  was  one  of  the  crew  of  the 
"  Pharaon."  Edniond  hailed  the  appearance  of  this  man, 
who  had  served  under  himself,  as  a  sure  test  of  the  changes 
wliich  had  been  wrought  in  his  own  appearance.  Going 
straight  towards  him,  he  began  a  variety  of  questions  on 
different  subjects,  carefully  watching  the  man's  counte- 
nance as  he  did  so ;  but  not  a  word  or  look  implied  his 
having  the  slightest  idea  of  ever  having  seen  before  the 
individual  with  whom  he  was  then  conversing.  Giving 
the  sailor  a  piece  of  money  in  return  for  his  civility, 
Dantes  proceeded  onwards ;  but  ere  he  had  gone  many 
steps  he  heard  the  man  running  after  him.  Dantes  in- 
stantly turned  to  meet  him.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mon- 
sieur," said  the  honest  fellow,  in  almost  breathless  haste, 
*'  but  I  believe  you  made  a  mistake ;  you  intended  to 
give  me  a  two-franc  piece,  and  you  gave  me  a  double 
napoleon." 

"  Thank  you,  my  good  friend.  I  see  that  I  have  made 
a  trifling  mistake,  as  you  say ;  but  by  way  of  rewarding 
your  honest  spirit  I  give  you  another  double  napoleon, 
that  you  may  drink  to  my  health  with  your  comrades." 

So  extreme  was  the  surprise  of  the  sailor  that  he  was 
unable  even  to  thank  Edmond,  whose  receding  figure  he 
continued  to  gaze  after  in  speechless  astonishment.  At 
length,  when  Dantes  had  wholly  disappeared,  he  drew 
a  deep  breath,  and  with  another  look  at  his  gold,  he 
returned  to  the  quay,  saying  to  himself,  "  It  is  some 
nabob  arrived  from  India." 

Dantes  meanwhile  continued  his  route.  Each  step  he 
trod  oppressed  his  heart  with  fresh  emotion.  His  first  and 
most  indelible  recollections  were  of  that  place  ;  not  a  tree, 


THE  UNKNOWN.  311 

not  a  street  that  he  passed  failed  to  awaken  dear  and  cher- 
ished reminiscences.  When  he  reached  the  end  of  the  Rue 
de  Noailles  and  perceived  the  AUees  de  Meillan,  his  knees 
tottered  under  liim,  and  he  nearly  fell  under  the  wheels  of 
a  carriage.  At  length  he  came  to  the  house  in  which  his 
father  had  lived. 

The  nasturtiums  and  other  plants  which  the  good  man 
had  delighted  to  train  before  his  window,  had  all  disap- 
peared from  the  upper  part  of  the  house.  Leaning  against 
a  tree,  Dantes  remained  a  long  time  gazing  at  that  poor 
little  house ;  then  he  advanced  to  the  door,  and  inquired 
whether  there  were  any  chambers  to  be  let  in  the  house. 
Though  answered  in  the  negative,  he  begged  so  earnestly 
to  be  permitted  to  visit  those  on  the  fifth  floor  that  the 
concierge  went  up  and  asked  the  occupants  of  the  two 
rooms  to  allow  a  stranger  to  inspect  them.  The  tenants 
were  a  young  couple  married  only  a  week  previously ; 
upon  seeing  them  Dantes  breathed  a  deep  sigh. 

Nothing  in  the  two  small  chambers  forming  the  apart- 
ment remained  as  it  had  been  in  the  time  of  the  elder 
Dantes  ;  the  very  paper  was  different.  The  old  furniture, 
familiar  to  his  childhood,  present  in  all  their  details  to 
his  remembrance,  had  disappeared  ;  the  walls  alone  re- 
mained the  same.  The  bed  belonging  to  the  present 
occupants  was  placed  as  the  former  tenant  of  the  chamber 
had  been  accustomed  to  have  his  ;  and  in  spite  of  his 
efforts  to  prevent  it,  the  eyes  of  Edmond  were  suffused 
with  tears  as  he  reflected  that  on  that  spot  the  aged  man 
had  expired,  vainly  calling  for  his  son.  The  young  couple 
beheld  with  astonishment  this  man  with  a  stern  counte- 
nance, on  whose  cheeks  tears  were  flowing  down  ;  but 
they  felt  the  sacredness  of  his  grief,  and  refrained  from 
questioning  him.  They  left  him  to  indulge  his  sorrow 
alone.     When  he  withdrew^  they  both  accompanied  him 


312  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRTSTO. 

downstairs,  expressing  their  hope  that  he  would  come 
again  whenever  he  pleased,  and  assuring  him  that  their 
poor  dwelling  should  ever  be  open  to  him.  As  Edmond 
passed  the  doors  on  the  fourth  floor,  he  paused  at  one  of 
them  to  inquire  whether  Caderousse  the  tailor  still  dwelt 
there ;  but  he  was  informed  that  the  individual  in  ques- 
tion had  got  into  difficulties,  and  at  the  present  time  kept 
a  small  inn  on  the  route  from  Bellegarde  to  Beaucaire. 

Having  obtained  the  address  of  the  person  to  whom  the 
house  in  the  Allies  de  Median  belonged,  Dantes  next  pro- 
ceeded thither,  and  under  the  name  of  Lord  Wilmore  (the 
name  and  title  given  in  his  passport),  purchased  the  small 
dwelling  for  the  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  livres,  at 
least  ten  thousand  more  than  it  was  worth ;  but  had  its 
owner  asked  ten  times  the  sum  he  did,  it  would  unhesi- 
tatingly have  been  given.  The  very  same  day,  the  occu- 
pants of  the  apartments  on  the  fifth  floor  of  tlie  house, 
now  become  the  property  of  Dantes,  were  duly  informed 
by  the  notary  who  had  arranged  the  necessar}'  transfer  of 
deeds  that  the  new  landlord  gave  them  their  choice  among 
the  rooms  in  the  house  without  any  increase  of  rent,  upon 
condition  of  their  giving  up  to  him  the  two  small  chambers 
they  at  present  inhabited. 

This  strange  event  furnished  food  for  wonder  and  curi- 
osity in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Allees  de  Median,  and 
gave  rise  to  a  thousand  conjectures,  not  one  of  which  was 
correct.  But  that  which  raised  public  astonishment  to  a 
climax  and  set  all  speculations  at  defiance  was  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  same  stranger  who  had  in  the  morn- 
ing visited  the  AlMes  de  Meillan  had  been  seen  in  the 
evening  walking  in  the  little  village  of  the  Catalans,  and 
afterwards  had  entered  a  poor  fisherman's  hut  and  spent 
more  than  an  hour  in  inquiring  after  persons  who  had 
either  been  dead  or  gone  away  for  more  than  fifteen  or 


THE  UNKNOWN.  313 

sixteen  years.  On  the  following  day  the  family  from 
whom  all  these  particulars  had  been  asked  received  a 
handsome  present,  consisting  of  an  entirely  new  fisliing- 
boat,  with  a  full  supply  of  excellent  nets.  The  delighted 
recipients  of  these  munificent  gifts  would  gladly  have 
poured  out  their  thanks  to  their  generous  benefactor; 
but  they  had  seen  him,  upon  quitting  the  hut,  merely 
give  some  orders  to  a  sailor,  and  then,  springing  lightly 
oil  horseback,  quit  Marseilles  by  the  Porte  d'Aix. 


314  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER    XXVL 

THE   INN    OF    PONT    DU    CARD. 

Such  of  my  readers  as  have  made  a  pedestrian  excursion 
to  the  south  of  France  may  perchance  have  noticed,  mid- 
way between  the  town  of  Beaucaire  and  the  village  of 
Bellegarde,  a  small  roadside  inn,  from  the  front  of  which 
hangs,  creaking  and  flapping  in  the  wind,  a  sheet  of  tin 
covered  with  a  caricature  resemblance  of  the  Pont  du 
Gard.  This  little  inn,  if  we  take  our  direction  from 
the  course  of  the  Rhone,  is  situated  on  the  left-hand  side 
of  the  road,  with  its  back  to  the  river.  Attached  to  it 
is  what  in  Languedoc  is  styled  a  garden,  consisting  of  a 
small  plot  of  ground,  a  full  view  of  which  might  be  ob- 
tained from  a  door  immediately  opposite  the  grand  portal 
by  which  travellers  were  ushered  in  to  partake  of  the  hos- 
pitality of  mine  host  of  the  Pont  du  Gard.  In  this  plai- 
sance,  or  garden,  scorched  beneath  the  ardent  sun  of  a 
latitude  of  thirty  degrees,  a  few  dingy  olives  and  stunted 
fig-trees  struggle  hard  for  existence,  but  their  withered, 
dusty  foliage  abundantly  proves  how  unequal  is  the  con- 
flict. Between  these  sickly  shrubs,  grows  a  scanty  supply 
of  garlic,  tomatoes,  and  eschalots ;  while  lone  and  solitary, 
like  a  forgotten  sentinel,  a  tall  pine  raises  its  melancholy 
bead  in  one  of  the  corners  of  this  unattractive  spot  and 
displays  its  flexible  stem  and  fan-shaped  summit,  dried 
and  cracked  by  the  withering  influence  of  the  mistral, 
that  scourge  of  Provence. 

In  the  surrounding  plain,  which  more  resembles  a  dusty 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.        315 

lake  than  solid  ground,  are  scattered  a  few  miserable  stalks 
of  wheat,  the  effect,  no  doubt,  of  a  curious  desire  on  the 
part  of  the  agriculturists  of  the  country  to  see  whether  the 
raising  of  grain  in  those  jjarched  regions  is  practicable. 
The  scanty  stalks,  however,  serve  to  accommodate  the 
numerous  grasshoppers  who  follow  the  unfortunate  inva- 
der of  this  bare  soil  with  untiring  persecution,  resting 
themselves  after  tlieir  chase  upon  the  stunted  specimens 
of  horticulture,  while  they  till  the  ear  with  their  sharp, 
shrill  cry. 

For  about  eight  years  this  little  inn  was  kept  by  a  man 
and  his  wife,  with  two  servants  :  one,  who  was  called 
Trinette,  officiated  in  the  capacity  of  chamber-maid ;  while 
the  other,  named  Pacaud,  took  charge  of  the  stable.  But, 
alas !  the  occupation  of  each  domestic  was  but  nominal, 
for  a  canal  recently  made  between  Beaucaire  and  Aigue- 
mortes  had  led  to  the  substitution  of  canal-boats  for  wagons 
and  barges  for  the  diligence.  And  as  though  to  add  to 
the  daily  misery  which  this  prosperous  canal  inflicted  on 
the  unfortunate  innkeeper,  whose  utter  ruin  it  was  fast 
accomplishing,  it  was  situated  not  a  hundred  steps  from 
the  forsaken  inn,  of  which  "we  have  given  a  brief  but 
faithful  description. 

The  innkeeper  was  a  man  of  from  forty  to  forty-five  years 
of  age,  tall,  strong,  and  bony,  a  good  specimen  of  the  na- 
tives of  those  southern  latitudes ;  he  had  dark,  sparkling, 
and  deep-set  eyes,  curved  nose,  and  teeth  white  as  those 
of  a  carnivorous  animal;  his  hair,  which  in  spite  of  the 
light  touch  time  had  as  yet  left  on  it  seemed  reluctant  to 
■whiten,  was  like  his  beard,  which  he  wore  under  his  chin, 
thick  and  curly,  and  but  slightly  mingled  with  a  few  sil- 
very threads.  His  naturally  murky  complexion  had  as- 
sumed a  still  further  shade  of  brown  from  the  habit  the 
poor  devil  had  acquired  of  stationing  himself  from  morn- 


316  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

ing  to  night  at  the  threshold  of  his  door,  in  eager  hope 
that  some  traveller,  either  equestrian  or  pedestrian,  might 
bless  his  eyes,  and  give  him  the  delight  of  once  more  see- 
ing a  guest  enter  his  doors.  His  patience  and  his  expec- 
tations were  alike  useless ;  yet  there  he  stood,  day  after 
day,  exposed  to  the  meridional  rays  of  a  burning  sun,  with 
no  other  protection  for  his  head  than  a  red  handkerchief 
twisted  around  it  after  the  manner  of  the  Spanish  mule- 
teers. This  man  was  our  former  acquaintance  Caderousse. 
His  wife,  on  the  contrary,  whose  maiden  name  had  been 
Madeleine  Eadelle,  was  pale,  meagre,  and  sickly-looking. 
Born  in  the  neighborhood  of  Aries,  she  had  shared  in 
the  beauty  for  wliich  its  women  are  proverbial;  but 
that  beauty  had  gradually  Avithered  beneath  the  devastat- 
ing influence  of  one  of  those  slow  fevers  so  prevalent  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  "waters  of  the  Aiguemortes  and  the 
marshes  of  Camargue.  She  remained  nearly  always  in 
her  chamber,  situated  on  the  first  floor,  sitting  shivering 
in  her  chair,  or  extended  languid  and  feeble  on  her  bed, 
while  her  husband  kept  his  daily  watch  at  the  door,  — 
a  duty  he  performed  with  the  greater  willingness,  as  it 
saved  him  the  necessity  of  listening  to  the  endless  plaints 
and  murmurs  of  his  helpmate,  who  never  saw  him  with- 
out breaking  out  into  bitter  invectives  against  fate  and 
the  unmerited  hardships  she  was  called  upon  to  endure ; 
to  all  of  which  her  husband  would  calmly  return  an 
unvarying  reply,  couched  in  these  philosophic  words : 
"  Be  silent,  La  Carconte ;  it  is  God  who  has  arranged 
these  matters." 

The  sobriquet  of  La  Carconte  had  been  bestowed  on 
Madeleine  Eadelle  on  account  of  her  birth  in  a  village  so 
called,  situated  between  Salon  and  Lambesc ;  and  as  a 
custom  existed  among  the  inhabitants  of  that  part  of 
France  where  Caderousse  lived  of  styling  every  person  by 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.        317 

some  particular  and  distinctive  appellation,  her  husband 
had  bestowed  on  her  the  name  of  La  Carconte  instead  of 
Madeleine,  which  perhaps  was  too  smooth  and  euphonious 
for  his  rough  tongue.     Still,  let  it  not  be  supposed  that 
in  spite  of  his  affected  resignation  to  the  will  of  Provi- 
dence,   the    unfortunate    innkeeper    was   not    profoundly- 
aware  of  the  misery  to  which  he  had  been  reduced  by 
that  wretched  canal  of  Beaucaire,  or  that  he  was  invul- 
nerable to  the  incessant  complaints  of  his  wife,  did  not 
writhe  under  the  double  misery  of  seeing  the  hateful  canal 
carry  off  alik^  his  customers  and  profits,  and  the  daily 
implication  .^f  his  peevish  partner's  murmurs  and  lamenta- 
tions.    Like  other  dwellers  in  the  South,  he  was  a  man  of 
sober  habits  and  moderate  desires,  but  fond  of  external 
show,  vain,  and  addicted  to  display.     During  the  days  of 
his   prosperity,  not  a   fete,   festivity,   or  ceremonial  took 
place  without  himself  and  wife  being  among  the  specta- 
tors.    He  dressed  in  the  picturesque  costume  worn  upon 
grand  occasions  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  south  of  France, 
bearing  equal  resemblance  to  the  style  adopted  both  by 
the  Catalans  and  Andalusians  ;   while  La  Carconte  dis- 
played the  charming  fashion  prevalent  among  the  womea 
of  Aries,  a  mode  of  attire  borrowed  equally  from  Greece 
and   Arabia.     But   by   degrees,   watch-chains,   necklaces, 
many-colored   scarfs,    embroidered   bodices,   velvet   vests, 
elegantly-worked    stockings,    striped    gaiters,    and    silver 
buckles  for  the  shoes,  all  disappeared ;  and  Gaspard  Ca- 
derousse,  unable  to  appear  abroad  in  his  pristine  splendor, 
had  given  up  any  further  participation  in  these  pomps  and 
vanities,  both  for  himself  and  his  wife,  although  a  bitter' 
feehng  of  envious  discontent  filled  his  mind  as  the  sound] 
of  mirth   and   merry    music   from   the   joyous    revellers 
reached   even    the  miserable   hostelry  to  which   he  still 
clung,  —  more  for  the  shelter  than  the  profit  it  afforded. 


318  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE   CRISTO. 

Caderousse  was,  as  usual,  at  his  place  of  observation 
before  the  door,  his  eyes  glancing  listlessly  from  a  piece  of 
closely-shaven  grass,  on  which  some  fowls  were  indus- 
triously though  fruitlessly  endeavoring  to  turn  up  some 
grain  or  insect  suited  to  their  taste,  to  the  deserted  road, 
the  two  extremities  of  which  pointed  respectively  north 
and  south,  when  he  was  roused  from  his  daily  specula- 
tions as  to  the  possibility  of  the  inn  of  the  Pont  du  Gard 
ever  again  being  called  upon  to  exercise  its  hospitable 
capabilities  to  any  chance  visitant,  by  the  shrill  voice  of 
his  wife  summoning  him  to  her  presence  with  all  speed. 
Murmuring  at  the  disagi-eeable  interruption  to  his  not  very 
agreeable  thoughts,  he  however  proceeded  to  th^  story 
on  which  was  situated  the  chamber  of  his  better  half,  — 
taking  care  however,  preparator}'^  to  so  doing,  to  set  the 
entrance-door  wide  open,  as  if  to  invite  travellers  not  to 
forget  liim  in  passing. 

At  the  moment  Caderousse  quitted  his  sentry-like  watch 
before  the  door,  the  road  on  which  he  so  eagerly  strained 
his  sight  was  void  and  lonely  as  a  desert  at  midday. 
There  it  lay  stretched  out,  one  interminable  line  of  dust 
and  sand,  with  its  sides  bordered  by  tall,  meagre  trees, 
altogether  presenting  so  uninviting  an  appearance  that  no 
one  in  their  senses  could  have  imagined  that  any  traveller 
at  liberty  to  regulate  his  hours  for  journeying  would 
choose  to  expose  himself  to  the  scorch  of  a  meridian  sun 
in  that  formidable  Sahara.  Nevertheless,  had  Caderousse 
but  retained  his  post  a  few  minutes  longer,  he  might  have 
caught  a  dim  outline  of  something  approaching  from  the 
direction  of  Bellegarde.  As  the  moving  object  drew  nearer, 
he  would  easily  have  perceived  it  consisted  of  a  man  and 
horse,  between  whom  the  kindest  and  most  amiable  under- 
standing appeared  to  exist.  The  horse  was  of  Hungarian 
breed,  and  ambled  along  with  the  easy  pace  peculiar  to 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.        319 

that  race  of  animals.  His  rider  was  a  priest,  dressed  in 
black,  and  wearing  a  three-cornered  hat ;  and  spite  of  the 
ardent  rays  of  a  noonday  sun,  the  pair  came  on  at  a  toler- 
ably smart  trot. 

Having  arrived  before  the  inn  of  the  Pont  du  Gard, 
the  horse  stopped,  but  whether  for  his  own  pleasure  or 
that  of  his  rider  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  say. 
However  that  might  have  been,  the  priest,  dismounting, 
led  his  steed  by  the  bridle  in  search  of  some  place  to 
which  he  could  secure  him.  Availing  himself  of  a  handle 
that  projected  from  a  half-fiillen  door,  he  tied  the  animal 
safely,  patted  him  kindly,  and  having  drawn  a  red  cotton 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  wiped  away  the  perspira- 
tion that  streamed  from  his  brow ;  then  advancing  to  the 
door,  he  struck  thrice  with  the  end  of  his  iron-shod  stick. 
At  this  unusual  sound,  a  huge  black  dog  came  rushing  to 
meet  the  daring  assailant  of  his  ordinarily  tranquil  abode, 
snarling  and  displaying  his  sharp  white  teeth  with  a 
determined  hostility  that  abundantly  proved  how  little 
he  was  accustomed  to  society.  At  that  moment  a  heavy 
footstep  was  heard  descending  the  wooden  staircase  that 
led  from  the  upper  floor,  and  with  many  bows  and  cour- 
teous smiles  appeared  the  landlord  of  that  small  inn,  at 
the  door  of  which  the  priest  was  waiting. 

"  Here  I  am  ! "  said  the  astonished  Caderousse.  "  Here 
I  am  !  Be  quiet,  Margotin  !  Don't  be  afraid.  Monsieur ; 
he  barks,  but  he  never  bites.  I  make  no  doubt  a  glass  of 
good  wine  would  be  acceptable  this  dreadfully  hot  day  !  " 
Then  perceiving  for  the  first  time  the  description  of  trav- 
eller he  had  to  entertain,  Caderouse  hastily  exclaimed  : 
"  A  thousand  pardons,  your  Reverence  1  I  did  not  observe 
whom  I  had  the  honor  to  receive  under  my  poor  roof.  What 
would  you  please  to  have.  Monsieur  the  Abbe  1  "What  re- 
freshment can  I  offer  you  1    All  I  have  is  at  your  service." 


320  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  priest  gazed  on  the  individual  addressing  him  "with. 
a  long  and  searching  gaze ;  he  even  appeared  to  court  a 
similar  scrutiny  on  the  part  of  the  innkeeper.  Then,  re- 
marking in  the  countenance  of  the  latter  no  other  expres- 
sion than  extreme  surprise  at  his  own  want  of  attention  to 
an  inquiry  so  courteously  worded,  he  deemed  it  as  well  to 
terminate  this  dumb  show,  and  therefore  said,  speaking 
with  a  strong  Italian  accent,  "  You  are,  I  presume,  M. 
Caderousse  ?  " 

"  Your  Reverence  is  quite  correct,"  answered  the  host, 
even  more  surprised  at  the  question  than  he  had  been  by 
the  silence  which  had  preceded  it ;  "I  am  Gaspard  Cade- 
rousse, at  your  service." 

"  Gaspard  Caderousse  !  "  rejoined  the  priest.  "  Yes, 
that  agrees  both  with  the  baptismal  appellation  and  sur- 
name of  the  individual  I  allude  to.  You  formerly  lived, 
I  believe,  in  the  Allees  de  Meillan,  on  the  fourth  floor  of 
a  small  house  situated  there  1  " 

"  I  did.  " 

"  Where  you  followed  the  business  of  a  tailor?" 

**  Yes,  I  was  a  tailor,  till  the  trade  fell  off  so  as  not  to 
afford  me  a  living.  Then,  it  is  so  very  hot  at  Marseilles 
that  really  I  could  bear  it  no  longer ;  and  it  is  my  idea 
that  all  the  respectable  inhabitants  will  be  obliged  to  fol- 
low my  example  and  quit  it.  But  talking  of  heat,  is  there 
nothing  I  can  offer  you  by  way  of  refreshment  1 " 

"  Yes ;  let  me  have  a  bottle  of  your  best  wine,  and 
then,  with  your  permission,  we  will  resume  our  conversa- 
tion where  we  leave  it." 

"As  you  please.  Monsieur  the  Abbe,"  said  Caderousse, 
who,  anxious  not  to  lose  the  present  opportunity  of  finding  a 
customer  for  one  of  the  few  bottles  of  the  wine  of  Cahors  still 
remaining  in  his  possession,  hastily  raised  a  trap-door  in 
the  floor  of  the  room  they  were  in,  which  served  both  as 


THE  imf  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.  321 

parlor  and  kitchen.  Upon  issuing  forth  from  his  subter- 
ranean retreat  at  the  expiration  of  five  minutes,  he  found 
the  abbe  seated  on  a  species  of  stool,  leaning  his  elbow  on 
a  table,  while  Margotin,  whose  animosity  seemed  to  have 
been  appeased  by  the  unusual  order  for  refreshments,  had 
crept  up  to  him,  and  had  established  himself  very  com- 
fortably between  his  knees,  his  long  skinny  neck  resting 
on  his  lap,  while  his  dim  eye  was  fixed  earnestly  on  the 
traveDer's   face. 

"  Are  you  quite  alone  1  "  inquired  the  guest,  as  Cade- 
rousse  placed  before  him  the  bottle  of  wine  and  a  glass. 

"  Quite,  quite  alone,"  replied  the  man,  "  or  at  least,  very 
near  it,  Monsieur  the  Abbe  ;  for  my  poor  wife  is  laid  up 
with  illness,  and  unable  to  render  me  the  least  assistance, 
poor   thing  ! " 

"  You  are  married,  then  1 "  said  the  priest,  with  a  spe- 
cies of  interest,  glancing  round  as  he  spoke  at  the  scanty 
style  of  the  accommodation  and  humble  furnishing  of  the 
room. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  the  Abbe,"  said  Caderousse,  with  a  sigh, 
"  you  perceive  that  I  am  not  a  rich  man  ;  but  to  thrive  in 
this  world  it  is  not  enough  to  be  an  honest  man." 

The  abbe  fixed  on  him  a  penetrating  glance. 

"  Yes,  honest  man,  —  I  can  certainly  say  that  much  for 
myself,"  continued  the  innkeeper,  fairly  sustaining  the 
scrutiny  of  the  abbe;  "and,"  continued  he,  significantly 
nodding  his  head,  "  that  is  more  than  every  one  can  say 
nowadays." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,  if  what  you  assert  be 
true,"  said  the  abbe  ;  "  for  I  am  firmly  persuaded  that 
sooner  or  later  the  good  will  be  rewarded  and  the  wicked 
punished." 

"  Such  words  as  those  belong  to  your  profession,  Mon- 
sieur the  Abbe,"  answered  Caderousse,  "  and  you  do  well  to 

VOL.   I.  —  21 


322  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

repeat  them  ;  but,"  added  he,  with  a  bitter  expression  of 
countenance,  "  any  one  is  privileged  not  to  believe  them." 

"  You  are  wrong  to  speak  thus,"  said  the  abb^  ;  "  and 
perhaps  I  may  in  my  own  person  be  able  to  prove  to  you 
the  truth  of  what  I  have  said." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  inquired  Caderousse,  with  a 
look  of  surprise. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  must  be  satisfied  that  you  are  the 
person  I  am  in  search  of." 

"  What  proofs  do  you  require  1 " 

"Did  you,  in  the  year  1814  or  1815,  know  anything 
of  a  young  sailor  named  Dantes  1  " 

"  Dantes !  Did  I  know  him,  that  poor  Edmond  1  I 
should  think  I  did.  He  was  even  one  of  my  best  friends  !  " 
exclaimed  Caderousse,  whose  countenance  assumed  an  al- 
most purple  hue,  while  the  clear  calm  eye  of  the  questioner 
seemed  to  dilate  until  it  completely  covered  him. 

"You  remind  me,"  said  the  priest,  "that  the  young 
man  concerning  whom  I  asked  you  was  said  to  bear  the 
name  of  Edmond." 

"  Said  to  bear  the  name  !  "  repeated  Caderousse,  be- 
coming excited  and  eager.  *'  Why,  he  was  so  called  as 
truly  as  I  myself  am  called  Gaspard  Caderousse.  But, 
Monsieur  the  Abbe,  tell  me,  I  pray,  what  has  become  of 
poor  Edmond.  Did  you  know  him  ?  Is  he  alive  and  at 
liberty  ]     Is  he  prosperous  and  happy  1 " 

"  He  died  a  prisoner,  more  wretched,  hopeless,  heart- 
broken than  the  felons  who  pay  the  penalty  of  their 
crimes  at  the  galleys  of  Toulon." 

A  deadly  paleness  succeeded  the  deep  sufi'usion  which 
had  before  spread  itself  over  the  countenance  of  Cade- 
rousse. He  turned  away,  and  the  priest  saw  him  wipe 
away  a  tear  with  the  corner  of  the  red  handkerchief  twisted 
round  his  head. 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.  323 

*'  Poor  fellow  !  "  murmured  Caderousse.  "  "Well,  there, 
Monsieur  the  Abbe,  is  another  proof  of  what  I  told  you,  — 
that  the  good  God  is  good  only  to  the  wicked.  Ah,"  con- 
tinued Caderousse,  speaking  in  the  highly-colored  language 
of  the  South,  **  the  world  grows  worse  and  worse.  Why 
does  not  God,  if  he  really  hates  the  wicked,  as  he  is  said 
to  do,  send  down  brimstone  and  fire,  and  consume  them 
altogether  1  " 

"You  speak  as  though  you  had  loved  this  young 
Dantes,"  observed  the  abbe. 

"  And  so  I  did,"  replied  Caderousse  ;  "  though  once,  I 
confess  I  envied  him  his  good  fortune.  But  I  swear  to 
you,  Monsieur  the  Abbe,  that  I  have  since  then  deeply  and 
sincerely  lamented  his  unhappy  fate." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  during  which  the  searching 
gaze  of  the  abbe  questioned  the  mobile  features  of  the 
innkeeper. 

"  You  knew  the  poor  lad,  then  1 "  continued  Caderousse, 

"  I  was  called  to  his  dying  bed  that  I  might  admin- 
ister to  him  the  consolations  of  religion." 

"And  of  what  did  he  die?"  asked  Caderousse,  in  a 
choking  voice. 

"  Of  what  does  one  die  in  prison  at  the  age  of  thirty 
years,  if  not  of  the  prison  itself  1" 

Caderousse  wiped  away  the  large  beads  of  perspiration 
that  gathered  on  his  brow. 

"  But  the  strangest  part  of  the  story  is,"  resumed  the 
abbe,  "  that  Dantes,  even  in  his  dying  moments,  swore  by 
the  Christ  whose  feet  he  kissed  that  he  did  not  know 
the  cause  of  his  imprisonment." 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  true  ! "  murmured  Caderousse,  "  he 
could  not  know  it.  Ah,  Monsieur  the  Abb^,  the  poor 
fellow  told  you  the  truth." 

"  And  he  besought  me  to  try  and  clear  up  a  mystery 


324  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTa 

he  had  never  heen  ahle  to  penetrate,  and  to  clear  his 
memory,  should  any  stain  have  fallen  on  it,"  And  here 
the  look  of  the  ahbe,  becoming  more  and  more  fixed, 
devoured  the  expression,  almost  gloomy,  which  appeared 
on  the  face  of  Caderousse. 

"  A  rich  Englishman,"  continued  the  abbe,  "  who  had 
been  his  companion  in  misfortune,  but  was  released  from 
prison  upon  the  second  restoration,  was  possessed  of  a 
diamond  of  immense  value.  On  leaving  prison  he  gave 
this  diamond  to  Dantes  as  a  mark  of  his  gratitude  for 
the  kindness  and  brotherly  care  with  which  Dantes  had 
nursed  him  through  a  severe  illness.  Instead  of  employ- 
ing this  diamond  in  attempting  to  bribe  his  jailers,  who 
indeed  might  have  taken  it  and  then  betrayed  him  to  the 
governor,  Dantes  carefully  preserved  it,  that  in  the  event 
of  his  getting  out  of  prison  he  might  have  wherewithal 
to  live ;  for  by  selling  the  diamond  he  could  make  his 
fortune." 

"  Then,  I  suppose,"  asked  Caderousse,  with  eager  looks, 
"  that  it  was  a  stone  of  immense  value  1 " 

"Why,  everything  is  relative,"  answered  the  abbe. 
"To  one  in  Edmond's  position  the  diamond  certainly  was 
of  great  value.     It  was  estimated  at  fifty  thousand  livres." 

"  Bless  me  ! "  exclaimed  Caderousse ;  "  what  a  sum ! 
Fifty  thousand  livres !  it  must  have  been  as  large  as  a 
nut !  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  abbe,  "  it  was  not  of  such  a  size  as 
that.  But  you  shall  judge  for  yourself;  I  have  it  with 
me." 

The  sharp  gaze  of  Caderousse  was  instantly  directed 
towards  the  priest's  garments,  as  though  hoping  to  discover 
the  treasure.  Calmly  drawing  forth  from  his  pocket  a 
small  box  covered  with  black  shagreen,  the  abbe  opened 
it  and  displayed  to  the  delighted  eyes  of  Caderousse  the 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.  325 

sparkling  jewel  it  contained,  set  in  a  ring  of  admirable 
workmanship.  "And  that  diamond,"  cried  Caderousse, 
almost  breathless  with  eager  admiration,  "you  say  is 
worth  fifty  thousand  livres?" 

"It  is,  without  the  setting,  which  is  also  valuable," 
replied  the  abbe,  as  he  closed  the  box  and  returned  it  to 
his  pocket,  while  its  brilliant  hues  seemed  still  to  dance 
before  the  eyes  of  the  fascinated  innkeeper. 

"  But  how  comes  this  diamond  in  your  possession,  Mon- 
sieur the  Abbe  ?     Did  Edmond  make  you  his  heir  ] " 

"No,  but  his  testamentary  executor.  When  dying,  the 
unfortunate  youth  said  to  me,  *  I  once  possessed  four  dear 
and  faithful  friends,  besides  the  maiden  to  whom  I  was 
betrothed ;  and  I  feel  convinced  they  have  aU  unfeignediy 
grieved  over  my  loss.  The  name  of  one  of  the  four 
friends  I  allude  to  is  Caderousse.'" 

The  innkeeper  shivered. 

"  *  Another  of  the  number,'  "  continued  the  abbe,  with- 
out seeming  to  notice  the  emotion  of  Caderousse,  " '  is 
called  Danglars ;  and  the  third,  although  my  rival,  enter- 
tained a  very  sincere  affection  for  me.'  " 

A  sinister  smile  played  over  the  features  of  Caderousse, 
who  was  about  to  break  in  upon  the  abbe's  speech  when 
the  latter,  waving  his  hand,  said,  "  Allow  me  to  finish 
first,  and  then  if  you  have  any  observations  to  make,  you 
can  do  so  afterwards.  *  The  third  of  my  friends,  although 
my  rival,  was  much  attached  to  me  ;  his  name  was  Fer- 
nand;  that  of  my  betrothed  was  — '  Stay,  stay,"  con- 
tinued the  abbe,  "  I  have  forgotten  what  he  called  her." 

"  Mercedes,"  cried  Caderousse,  eagerly. 

**  True,"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  stifled  sigh,  "  Mercedes 
it  was." 

"  Go  on,"  urged  Caderousse. 

"  Bring  me  a  carafe  of  water,"  said  the  abbe. 


326  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Caderousse  quickly  performed  the  stranger's  bidding; 
and  after  pouring  some  into  a  glass  and  slowly  swallowing 
its  contents,  the  abbe,  resuming  his  usual  placidity  of 
manner,  said,  as  he  placed  his  empty  glass  on  the  table, 
"  Where  were  we  *?  " 

"The  betrothed  of  Edmond  was  called  Mercedes." 

"  To  be  sure.  '  You  will  go  to  Marseilles,'  —  it  i3 
Dantes  who  speaks,  you  understand  ? " 

"Perfectly." 

"  *  For  the  purpose  of  selling  this  diamond,  the  proceeds 
of  which  you  will  divide  into  five  equal  parts,  and  give 
an  equal  portion  to  the  only  persons  who  have  loved  me 
upon  earth.'" 

"  But  why  into  five  parts  1 "  asked  Caderousse ;  "  you 
mentioned  only  four  persons." 

"  Because  the  fifth  is  dead,  as  I  hear.  The  fifth  sharer 
in  Edmond's  bequest  was  his  own  father." 

"  Too  true,  too  true ! "  ejaculated  Caderousse,  almost 
sufibcated  by  the  contending  passions  which  assailed  him, 
"  the  poor  old  man  is  dead." 

"  I  learned  so  much  at  Marseilles,"  replied  the  abb^, 
making  a  strong  effort  to  appear  indifferent ;  "  but  from 
the  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the  death  of  the 
elder  Dantes,  I  was  unable  to  obtain  any  particulars  of  his 
end.  Do  you  know  anything  about  the  last  days  of  that 
old  man  1 " 

"Eh!"  said  Caderousse,  "who  should  know  better 
than  1 1  Why,  I  lived  almost  on  the  same  floor  with  the 
poor  old  man.  Ah,  yes !  it  was  hardly  a  year  after  the 
disappearance  of  his  son  when  the  poor  old  man  died." 

"Of  what  did  he  die?" 

"Why,  the  doctors  called  his  complaint  an  internal 
inflammation,  I  believe.  His  acquaintances  say  he  died  of 
grief;  but  I,  who  almost  saw  him  die,  I  say  he  died  of —  " 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.  327 

"  Of  what  1 "  asked  the  priest,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  of  starvation." 

"  Starvation  !  "  exclaimed  the  abbe,  springing  from  his 
seat.  "  Why,  the  vilest  animals  are  not  suffered  to  die 
of  starvation.  The  very  dogs  that  wander  houseless  and 
homeless  in  the  streets  find  some  pitying  hand  to  cast 
them  a  mouthful  of  bread ;  and  that  a  man,  a  Christian, 
should  be  allowed  to  perish  of  hunger,  surrounded  by 
other  men  who  call  themselves  Christian !  impossible ! 
Oh,  it  is  impossible !  " 

"  "What  I  have  said,  I  have  said,"  answered  Caderousse. 

*'  And  you  are  wrong,"  said  a  voice  from  the  top  of  the 
stairs.  "Why  should  you  meddle  with  what  does  not 
concern  you  1 " 

The  two  men  turned  and  perceived  the  sickly  counte- 
nance of  La  Carconte  leaning  over  the  rail  of  the  staircase. 
Attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices,  she  had  feebly  dragged 
herself  down  the  stairs,  and  seated  on  the  lower  step,  she 
had  listened  to  the  foregoing  conversation. 

"  Why  do  you  meddle  yourself.  Wife  1 "  replied  Cade- 
rousse. '*  This  gentleman  asks  me  for  information  which 
common  politeness  will  not  permit  me  to  refuse." 

"Yes,  but  which  prudence  requires  you  to  refuse.  How 
do  you  know  the  motives  that  person  may  have  for  making 
you  speak,  simpleton?" 

"I  pledge  you  my  sacred  word,  Madame,"  said  the  abbe, 
"  that  my  intentions  are  free  from  all  sorts  of  harm  or 
injury  to  you  or  yours;  and  that  your  husband  has  nothing 
to  fear,  provided  he  answers  me  candidly." 

"  iS"othing  to  fear,  yes  !  You  begin  with  fine  promises, 
then  come  down  to  '  nothing  to  fear,'  then  go  away  and 
forget  what  you  have  said ;  and  some  fine  morning  down 
comes  misfortune  on  the  heads  of  the  poor  wretches,  who 
do  not  even  know  whence  it  comes." 


328  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  good  woman,  calm  your  anxiety ;  no 
misfortune  will  ever  come  to  you  through  me,  I  assure 

you." 

Some  inarticulate  sounds  escaped  La  Carconte,  then 
letting  her  head,  which  she  had  raised  during  the  excite- 
ment of  conversation,  again  droop  on  to  her  lap,  she  con- 
tinued her  feverish  trembling,  and  left  the  two  speakers 
to  resume  the  conversation,  but  still  remaining  where  she 
could  hear  every  word  they  uttered.  Again  the  abbe  had 
been  obliged  to  swallow  a  draught  of  water  to  calm  the 
emotions  that  threatened  to  overpower  him.  "When  he 
had  sufficiently  recovered  himself,  he  said,  "  It  appears, 
then,  that  the  miserable  old  man  you  were  telling  me 
of  was  forsaken  by  every  one,  since  he  died  in  that 
way?" 

"  "Why,  he  was  not  altogether  forsaken,"  replied  Cade- 
rousse ;  "for  Mercedes  the  Catalane  and  M.  Morrel  were 
very  kind  to  him ;  but  somehow  the  poor  old  man  had 
contracted  a  profound  antipathy  to  Fernand,  —  the  very 
person,"  added  Caderousse,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "that  you 
named  just  now  as  being  one  of  Dantes's  faithful  and 
attached  friends." 

"  And  was  he  not  so  1 "  asked  the  abbe. 

"  Gaspard  !  Gaspard  !  "  murmured  the  woman  from  her 
seat  on  the  stairs,  "  mind  what  you  are  saying  ! " 

Caderousse  made  no  reply  to  these  words,  though  evi- 
dently irritated  and  annoyed  by  the  interruption,  but 
addressing  the  abbe,  said,  "Can  a  man  be  faithful  to 
another  whose  wife  he  desires  for  himself?  Dantes,  who 
was  a  heart  of  gold,  believed  everybody's  professions  of 
friendship.  Poor  Edmond !  but  it  is  well  that  he  never 
found  them  out ;  it  would  have  been  too  difficult  to  pardon 
them  in  the  hour  of  death.  And  whatever  people  may 
say,"  continued  Caderousse,  in  his  native  language,  which 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.  329 

was  not  altogether  devoid  of  rude  poetry,  *'  I  cannot  help 
fearing  more  the  malediction  of  the  dead  than  the  hatred 
of  the  living." 

"  Simpleton  !  "  exclaimed  La  Carconte. 

"  Do  you,  then,  know  in  what  manner  Fernand  injured 
Dantes  1 "  inquired  the  abbe  of  Caderousse. 

"Do  I]     No  one  better." 

"  Speak  out,  then  ;  say  what  it  was  ! " 

"  Gaspard  !  "  cried  La  Carconte,  "  do  as  you  please,  — 
you  are  the  master ;  but  if  you  are  guided  by  me,  you 
will  have  nothing  to  say  on  this  subject." 

"  Well,  well,  Wife,"  replied  Caderousse,  "  1  believe  you 
are  right.     I  shall  follow  your  advice." 

"  Then  you  are  determined  not  to  reveal  the  circum- 
stances you  alluded  to?"  said  the  abbe. 

"  Why,  what  good  would  it  do  1 "  asked  Caderousse. 
"  If  the  poor  lad  were  living,  and  came  to  me  to  beg  that 
I  would  candidly  tell  him  who  were  his  true  and  who  his 
false  friends,  why  perhaps  I  should  not  hesitate.  But 
you  tell  me  he  is  no  more  ;  he  can  have  nothing  to  do  with 
hatred  or  revenge,  so  let  all  such  feelings  be  buried  with 
him." 

"  You  are  willing,  then,"  said  the  abb^,  "  that  I  should 
bestow  on  men  who  you  say  are  false  and  treacherous  the 
reward  intended  for  faithful  friendship  1 " 

"  That  is  true  enough,"  returned  Caderousse.  "  You 
say  truly,  the  gift  of  poor  Edmond  was  not  meant  for 
such  traitors  as  Fernand  and  Danglars ;  besides,  wliat 
would  it  be  to  them  1  —  no  more  than  a  drop  of  water 
in  the  ocean." 

"Without  considering,"  said  the  woman,  "that  those 
two  men  can  crush  you  with  a  single  movement." 

"  How  so  1 "  inquired  the  abbe.  "  Are  these  persons, 
then,  so  rich  and  powerful  1 " 


330  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Do  you  not  know  their  history  1 " 

"  I  do  not.     Pray  relate  it  to  me  ! " 

Caderousse  seemed  to  reflect  an  instant,  then  said,  "  No, 
truly,  it  would  take  up  too  much  time." 

"  Well,  my  good  friend,"  returned  the  abb^,  in  a  tone 
that  indicated  utter  indifference  on  his  part,  "  you  are  at 
liberty  either  to  speak  or  be  silent,  just  as  you  please;  for 
my  own  part,  I  respect  your  scruples  and  admire  your  sen- 
timents, so  let  the  matter  end.  I  shall  do  my  duty  as 
conscientiously  as  I  can,  and  fulfil  my  promise  to  the 
dying  man.  My  first  business  will  be  to  dispose  of  this 
diamond."  So  saying,  the  abbe  again  drew  the  small 
box  from  his  pocket,  opened  it,  and  contrived  to  hold 
it  in  such  a  light  that  a  bright  flash  of  brilliant  hues 
passed  before  the  dazzled  gaze  of  Caderousse. 

"  Wife,  Wife  ! "  cried  he,  in  a  voice  almost  hoarse 
with  eager  emotion,  "come  hither  and  behold  this  rich 
diamond  ! " 

"  Diamond  !  "  exclaimed  La  Carconte,  rising  and  de- 
scending to  the  chamber  with  a  tolerably  firm  step ; 
"  what  diamond  are  you  talking  about  1 " 

"  Why,  did  you  not  hear  all  we  said  ] "  inquired  Cade- 
rousse. "It  is  a  diamond  left  by  poor  Edmoud  Dantes  to 
be  sold,  and  the  money  divided  among  his  father,  Mercedes, 
his  betrothed  bride,  Fernand,  Danglars,  and  myself.  The 
jewel  is  worth  at  least  fifty  thousand  livres." 

"  Oh,  what  a  splendid  diamond  ! "  cried  the  woman. 

"  The  fifth  part  of  the  proceeds  of  this  stone  belongs  to 
us,  then,  does  it  not  1  "  asked  Caderousse,  still  devouring 
the  glittering  gem  with  his  eyes. 

"  It  does,"  replied  the  abb^  ;  "  with  the  addition  of  a 
share  in  the  part  intended  for  the  elder  Dantes,  which  I 
conceive  myself  at  liberty  to  share  equally  with  the  four 
surviving  persons." 


"  *  Oh,  what  a  splendid  diamond! '  cried  the 

woman." 

Drawn  by  Edmund  11.  Garrett,  etched  by  VV.  H.  W.  Bicknell. 

The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  I.  330. 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.  331 

"And  wherefore  among  us  four?"  inquired  Caderousse. 

*'  Because  you  were  the  four  friends  of  Edniond." 

"  I  don't  call  those  friends  who  betray  and  ruin  you," 
murmured  the  wife,  in  a  low,  muttering  voice. 

"  Of  course  not !  "  rejoined  Caderousse,  quickly  ;  "  no 
more  do  I.  And  that  was  what  I  was  observing  to  this 
gentleman  just  now.  I  said  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  sacri- 
legious profanation  to  reward  treachery,  perhaps  crime." 

"  Remember,"  answered  the  abbe,  calmly,  as  he  replaced 
the  jewel  and  its  case  in  the  pocket  of  his  cassock,  "  it  is 
your  fault,  not  mine,  that  I  do  so.  You  will  have  the 
goodness  to  furnish  me  with  the  address  of  Edmond's 
friends,  in  order  that  I  may  execute  his  last  wishes." 

The  agitation  of  Caderousse  became  extreme,  and  large 
drops  of  perspiration  rolled  from  his  heated  brows.  As 
he  saw  the  abb6  rise  from  his  seat  and  go  towards  the 
door,  as  though  to  ascertain  if  his  horse  were  sufficient- 
ly refreshed  to  continue  his  journey,  Caderousse  and 
his  wife  exchanged  looks  of  deep  meaning  with  each 
other. 

"  This  splendid  diamond  might  be  all  our  own,"  said 
Caderousse. 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ? " 

"  Why,  surely  a  man  of  his  holy  profession  would  not 
deceive  us  ! " 

"  Well,"  replied  La  Carconte,  "  do  as  you  like.  For 
my  part,  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  affair."  So  saying,  she 
once  more  climbed  the  staircase  leading  to  her  chamber, 
her  frame  shuddering  with  aguish  chills,  and  her  teeth 
rattling  in  her  head,  notwithstanding  the  intense  heat 
of  the  weather.  Arrived  at  the  top  stair,  she  turned 
round,  and  called  out  in  a  warning  tone  to  her  hus- 
band, "Gaspard,  consider  well  what  you  are  about 
to  do  !  » 


332  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  I  have  decided,"  answered  Caderousse. 
La  Carconte  then  entered  her  chamber,  the  flooring  of 
which  creaked  beneath  her  heavy,  uncertain  tread,  as  she 
proceeded  towards  her  armchair,  into  which  she  fell  as 
though  exhausted. 

"  What  have  you  decided  ?  '*  asked  the  abbe. 
**  To  tell  you  all  I  know,"  was  the  reply. 
"  I  certainly  think  you  act  wisely  in  so  doing,'*  said 
the  priest.  "  Not  because  I  have  the  least  desire  to  learn 
anything  you  may  desire  to  conceal  from  me,  but  simply 
because  if  you  can  assist  me  to  distribute  the  legacy  ac- 
cording to  the  wishes  of  the  testator,  why,  so  much  the 
better." 

"  I  hope  I  can,"  replied  Caderousse,  his  face  flushed 
with  hope  and  cupidity. 

"  Now,  then,  begin  if  you  please,"  said  the  abbe ;  "  I 
am  waiting." 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  answered  Caderousse  ;  "  we  might 
be  interrupted  in  the  most  interesting  part  of  my  recital, 
which  would  be  a  pity ;  and  it  is  as  well  that  your  visit 
hither  should  be  known  only  to  ourselves."  With  these 
words  he  went  stealthily  to  the  door,  which  he  closed, 
and  by  way  of  still  greater  precaution  bolted  and  barred 
it  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  at  night.  During  this 
time  the  abbe  had  chosen  his  place  for  listening  at  his 
ease.  He  removed  his  seat  into  a  corner  of  the  room 
where  he  himself  would  be  in  deep  shadow,  while  the 
light  would  be  fully  thrown  on  the  narrator ;  then  with 
head  bent  down  and  hands  clasped,  or  rather  clinched 
together,  he  prepared  to  give  his  whole  attention  to 
Caderousse,  who  seated  himself  on  a  little  stool  opposite 
to  him. 

"  Remember,  I  did  not  urge  you  to  this,"  said   the 
trembling  voice  of  La  Carconte,  as  though  through  the 


THE  INN  OF  PONT  DU  GARD.       333 

flooring  of  her  chamlDer  she  could  see  what  was  taking 
place  below. 

"  Enough,  enough  ! "  replied  Caderousse ;  "  say  no  more 
about  it.  I  will  take  all  the  consequences  upon  myself." 
And  he  began  his  story. 


334  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   BECITAL. 

"  First,"  said  Caderousse,  "  I  must  beg  you,  Monsieur,  to 
promise  me  one  thing." 

"  What  is  that  1  "  inquired  the  abbe. 

"  It  is  that  if  you  ever  make  use  of  the  details  I  am 
about  to  give  you,  you  will  never  let  any  one  know  that 
it  was  I  who  supplied  them  ;  for  the  persons  of  whom  I 
am  about  to  talk  are  rich  and  powerful,  and  if  they  only 
laid  the  tips  of  their  fingers  on  me,  I  should  break  to 
pieces  like  glass." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  my  friend,"  replied  the  abbe. 
"  I  am  a  priest,  and  confessions  die  in  my  breast.  Recol- 
lect, our  only  desire  is  to  carry  out  in  a  fitting  manner 
the  last  wishes  of  our  friend.  Speak,  then,  without  re- 
serve, as  without  hatred  ;  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth. 
I  do  not  know,  never  may  know,  the  persons  of  whom 
you  are  about  to  speak.  Besides,  I  am  an  Italian  and  not 
a  Frenchman,  and  belong  to  God  and  not  to  man  ;  and  I 
retire  to  my  convent,  which  I  have  only  quitted  to  fulfil 
the  last  wishes  of  a  dying  man." 

This  last  assurance  seemed  to  give  Caderousse  courage. 
"  Well,  then,  under  these  circumstances,"  said  he,  "  I  will, 
indeed,  I  must  undeceive  you  as  to  the  friendship  which 
poor  Edmond  believed  so  sincere  and  unquestionS.ble." 

"  Begin  with  his  father,  if  you  please,"  said  the  abbe  ; 
"  Edmond  talked  to  me  a  great  deal  about  the  old  man, 
for  whom  he  had  the  deepest  love." 


THE  RECITAL.  335 

^  "The  history  is  a  sad  one,  sir,"  said  Caderousse,  shaking 

his  head  ;  "  perhaps  you  know  all  the  earlier  part  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  tlie  abbe ;  "  Edmond  related  to  me 

everything  until  the  moment  when  he  was  arrested  in  a 

small  cabaret  close  to  Marseilles." 

"At  La  Reserve  !  Oh,  yes  !  I  can  see  it  all  before  me 
this  moment." 

"  Was  it  not  his  betrothal  feast  1 " 

"  It  was  ;  and  the  feast  that  began  so  gayly  had  a  very 
sorrowful  ending  :  a  commissary  of  police,  followed  by 
four  soldiers,  entered,  and  Dantes  was  arrested." 

"Yes ;  and  up  to  this  point  I  know  aU,"  said  the  priest. 
"  Dantes  himself  knew  only  what  had  happened  to  him 
personally,  for  he  never  beheld  again  any  of  the  five  per- 
sons I  have  named  to  you,  nor  heard  them  mentioned." 

"  Well,  when  Dantes  was  arrested,  iV[.  Morrel  hastened 
to  obtain  the  particulars,  and  they  were  very  sad.  The 
old  man  returned  alone  to  his  home,  folded  up  his  wedding 
suit  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  paced  up  and  down  his 
chamber  the  whole  day,  and  would  not  go  to  bed  at  all, 
—  for  I  was  underneath  him  and  heard  him  walking  the 
whole  night;  and  for  myself,  I  assure  you  I  could  not 
sleep  either,  for  the  grief  of  the  poor  father  gave  me  great 
uneasiness,  and  every  step  he  took  went  to  my  heart  as 
really  as  if  his  foot  had  pressed  against  my  breast.  The 
next  day  Mercedes  came  to  Marseilles  to  implore  the  protec- 
tion of  M.  de  Villefort ;  she  obtained  nothing.  She  then 
went  to  visit  the  old  man.  When  she  saw  him  so  misera- 
ble and  heart-broken,  and  learned  that  he  had  not  been  in 
bed  nor  tasted  food  since  the  previous  day,  she  wished 
him  to  go  with  her  that  she  might  take  care  of  him ;  but 
the  old  man  would  not  consent.  *  No,'  was  his  reply, 
'I  will  not  leave  this  house,  —for  my  poor  dear  boy  loves 
me  better  than  anything  in  the  world,  and  if  he  gets  out 


336  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

of  prison  he  will  come  to  see  me  the  first  thing  ;  and  what 
would  he  think  if  I  did  not  wait  here  for  him  1  *  I  heard 
all  this  from  the  window,  for  I  was  anxious  that  Mercedes 
should  persuade  the  old  man  to  accompany  her  ;  his  foot- 
steps over  my  head  night  and  day  did  not  leave  me  a 
moment's  repose." 

"  But  did  you  not  go  upstairs  and  try  to  console  the 
poor  old  man  ? "  asked  the  abb6. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  replied  Caderousse,  "  we  cannot  console 
those  who  will  not  be  consoled,  and  he  was  one  of  these  ; 
besides,  I  know  not  why,  but  he  seemed  to  dislike  seeing 
me.  One  night,  however,  I  heard  his  sobs,  and  I  could 
not  resist  my  desire  to  go  up  to  him  ;  but  when  I  reached 
his  door  he  was  no  longer  weeping,  he  was  praying.  I 
cannot  now  repeat  to  you,  sir,  all  the  eloquent  words 
and  imploring  language  he  made  use  of.  It  was  more 
than  piety,  it  was  more  than  grief;  and  I,  who  am  no 
canter,  and  hate  the  Jesuits,  said  then  to  myself,  '  It  is 
really  fortunate  that  I  am  alone,  and  that  the  good  God 
has  not  sent  me  children  ;  for  if  I  were  a  father,  and  if  I 
should  suffer  a  grief  like  that  of  this  poor  old  man,  not  find- 
ing in  my  memory  or  in  my  heart  all  that  he  is  saying  to 
the  good  God,  I  should  throw  myself  into  the  sea  at  once, 
to  escape  from  my  grief.'  " 

"  Poor  father  !  "  murmured  the  priest. 

"  From  day  to  day  he  lived  on  alone,  and  more  and 
more  solitary.  M.  Morrel  and  Mercedes  came  often  to  see 
him,  but  his  door  was  closed ;  and  although  I  was  certain 
he  was  at  home,  he  would  not  make  any  answer.  One 
day,  when  contrary  to  his  custom  he  had  admitted  Mer- 
cedes, and  the  poor  girl,  in  spite  of  her  own  grief  and 
despair,  endeavored  to  console  him,  he  said  to  her,  *  Be 
assured,  my  dear  daughter,  he  is  dead  ;  and  instead  of  our 
awaiting  him,  he  is  awaiting  us,     I  am  quite  happy,  for  I 


THE  RECITAL.  337 

am  the  oldest,  and  of  course  shall  see  him  first.*  However 
well  disposed  we  may  be,  we  soon  cease  visiting  those 
who  make  us  sad.  And  so  at  last  old  Dantes  was  left  all 
to  himself,  and  I  only  saw  from  time  to  time  strangers  go 
up  to  him  and  come  down  again  with  some  bundle  which 
they  tried  to  hide  ;  but  I  guessed  what  these  bundles  were  : 
he  was  selling  piece  by  piece  all  that  he  had,  to  get  money 
for  food.  At  length  the  poor  old  fellow  reached  the  end  of 
his  possessions  ;  he  owed  three  quarters'  rent,  and  they 
threatened  to  turn  him  out.  He  begged  for  another  week, 
which  was  granted  to  him.  I  know  this,  because  the  land- 
lord came  into  my  apartment  when  he  left  his.  For  the 
first  three  days  I  heard  him  walking  about  as  usual,  but  on 
the  fourth  I  heard  him  no  longer.  I  then  resolved  to  go 
up  to  him  at  all  risks.  The  door  was  closed  ;  but  I  looked 
through  the  keyhole,  and  saw  him  so  pale  and  haggard  that 
believiug  him  very  ill  I  went  and  told  M.  Morrel,  and  then 
ran  on  to  Mercedes.  Tliey  both  came  immediately,  M. 
Morrel  bringing  a  doctor ;  and  the  doctor  said  it  was  an 
affection  of  the  stomach,  and  ordered  him  a  limited  diet. 
I  was  there  too,  and  I  never  shall  forget  the  old  man's 
smile  at  this  prescription.  From  that  time  he  opened  his 
door ;  he  had  an  excuse  for  not  eating  any  more,  as  the 
doctor  had  put  him  on  a  diet." 

The  abbe  uttered  a  kind  of  groan. 

"  The  story  interests  you,  does  it  not,  sir  1 "  inquired 
Caderousse. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  abbe ;  "  it  is  very  affecting." 

*'  Mercedes  came  again,  and  she  found  him  so  altered 
that  she  was  even  more  anxious  than  before  to  have  him 
taken  to  her  own  abode.  This  was  M.  Morrel's  wish  also, 
who  would  fain  have  conveyed  the  old  man  against  his 
consent ;  but  the  old  man  resisted,  and  cried  so  that  they 
were  afraid  to  persevere.      Mercedes  remained   therefore 

VOL.  I.  —  22 


338  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 

by  his  bedside,  and  M.  Morrel  went  away,  making  a  sign 
to  her  that  he  had  left  his  purse  on  the  chimney-piece. 
But  availing  himself  of  the  doctor's  order,  the  old  man 
would  not  take  any  sustenance.  At  length  (after  nine 
days'  despair  and  fasting)  the  old  man  died,  cursing  those 
who  had  caused  his  misery,  and  saying  to  Mercedes,  '  If 
you  ever  see  my  Edmond  again,  teH  him  I  die  blessing 
him.'  " 

The  abbe  rose  from  his  chair,  made  two  turns  round 
the  chamber,  and  pressed  his  trembling  hand  against  his 
parched  throat.     "  And  you  believe  he  died  —  " 

"  Of  hunger,  sir,  of  hunger,"  said  Caderousse.  "  I  am 
as  certain  of  it  as  that  we  two  are  Christians." 

The  abbe  with  a  shaking  hand  seized  a  glass  of  water 
that  was  standing  by  him  half-full,  emptied  it  at  one  gulp, 
and  then  resumed  his  seat  with  red  eyes  and  pale  cheeks. 
"  This  was  indeed  a  horrible  event,"  said  he,  in  a  hoarse 
voice. 

"The  more  so,  sir,  as  it  was  men's  and  not  God's 
doing." 

"  Tell  me  of  those  men,"  said  the  abbe  ;  "  and  remem- 
ber," he  added  in  a  voice  that  was  nearly  menacing  in  its 
tone,  "  you  have  promised  to  tell  me  everything.  Tell  me 
therefore  who  are  these  men  who  have  killed  the  son  with 
despair,  and  the  father  with  famine  1 " 

"  Two  men  jealous  of  him,  Monsieur,  one  through 
love,  and  the  other  through  ambition,  —  Fernand  and 
Danglars." 

"  Tell  me,  how  was  this  jealousy  manifested  1 " 

"  They  denounced  Edmond  as  a  Bonapartist  agent." 

"  "Which  of  the  two  denounced  him  ?  Which  was  the 
real  delinquent  1 " 

"  Both,  sir  ;  one  wrote  the  letter,  and  the  other  put  it 
in  the  post." 


THE  RECITAL.  339 

"  And  where  was  this  letter  written  1 " 

"At  La  Reserve,  the  day  before  the  festival  of  the 
betrothing." 

"  'T  Avas  so,  then  ;  't  was  so,  then,"  murmured  the  abbe. 
"  Oh,  Faria,  Faria  !  how  well  did  you  judge  men  and 
things !  " 

"  What  did  you  please  to  say,  sir  1 "  asked  Caderousse. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  replied  the  priest ;  "  go  on." 

"  It  was  Danglars  who  wrote  the  denunciation  with 
his  left  hand,  that  his  writing  might  not  be  recognized,  and 
Fernand  who  put  it  in  the  post." 

"  But,"  exclaimed  the  abbe,  suddenly,  "  you  were  there 
yourself ! " 

"  I ! "  said  Caderousse,  astonished ;  "  who  told  you  I 
was  there  1 " 

The  abbe  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  and  he  added 
quickly,  "  No  one  ;  but  in  order  to  have  known  every- 
thing so  well,  you  must  have  been  an  eye-witness." 

"  True,  true  !  "  said  Caderousse,  in  a  choking  voice,  "  I 
was  there." 

"And  did  you  not  remonstrate  against  such  infamy  1  " 
asked  the  abbe ;  "  if  not,  you  were  an  accomplice." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  Caderousse,  "they  had  made  me 
drink  to  such  an  excess  that  I  nearly  lost  all  perception. 
I  had  only  an  indistinct  understanding  of  what  was  passing 
around  me.  I  said  all  that  a  man  in  such  a  state  could 
say ;  but  they  both  assured  me  that  it  was  a  jest  they  were 
carrying  on,  and  perfectly  harmless." 

"Next  day,  Monsieur,  next  day,  you  must  have  seen 
plainly  enough  what  they  had  been  doing ;  yet  you  said 
nothing,  though  you  were  present  when  Dant6s  was 
arrested." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  was  there,  and  very  anxious  to  speak  ;  but 
Danglars  restrained  me.     *  If  he  should  really  be  guilty/ 


340  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

said  he,  '  and  di<l  really  land  on  the  island  of  Elba ;  if  he 
is  really  charged  with  a  letter  for  the  Bonapartist  commit- 
tee at  Paris,  and  if  they  find  this  letter  upon  him,  — those 
who  have  supported  him  will  be  regarded  as  his  accom- 
plices.' I  was  afraid,  —  the  political  condition  being  full 
of  hidden  dangers,  —  and  I  held  my  tongue.  It  was 
cowardly,  I  confess,  but  it  was  not  criminal." 

"  I  comprehend,  —  you  allowed  matters  to  take  their 
course,  that  was  all." 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  answered  Caderousse,  "and  I  think 
of  it  with  remorse  night  and  day.  I  often  ask  pardon  of 
God  for  it,  I  swear  to  you,  and  with  the  more  reason  be- 
cause I  believe  that  this  action,  the  only  one  with  which 
I  have  seriously  to  reproach  myself  in  all  my  life,  is  the 
cause  of  my  abject  condition.  I  am  expiating  a  moment 
of  selfishness ;  and  thus  it  is  I  always  say  to  Carconte 
when  she  complains,  '  Hold  your  tongue,  woman  !  it  is 
the  will  of  God.' "  And  Caderousse  bowed  his  head  with 
every  sign  of  real  repentance. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  abbe,  "you  have  spoken  frankly; 
thus  to  accuse  yourself  is  to  deserve  pardon." 

"  Unfortunately,  Edmond  is  dead,  and  has  not  par- 
doned me." 

"  He  did  not  know  about  it,"  said  the  abbe. 

"But  he  knows  it  all  now,"  interrupted  Caderousse j 
"they  say  the  dead  know  everything." 

There  was  a  brief  silence ;  the  abbe  rose  and  paced  up 
and  down  pensively,  and  then  resumed  his  seat.  "  You 
have  two  or  three  times  mentioned  a  M.  Morrel,"  he  said ; 
"  who  was  he  %  " 

"  The  owner  of  the  '  Pharaon '  and  the  patron  of  Dantes." 

"And  what  part  did  he  play  in  this  sad  drama?"  in- 
quired the  abbe. 

"  The  part  of  an  honest  man,  full  of  courage  and  aflfec- 


THE  RECITAL,  341 

tion.  Twenty  times  he  interceded  for  Edmond.  "When 
the  emperor  returned,  he  wrote,  implored,  threatened,  and 
so  energetically  that  on  the  second  restoration  he  was  per- 
secuted as  a  Bonapartist.  Ten  times,  as  I  told  you,  he 
came  to  see  Dantes's  father,  and  offered  to  receive  him  in 
his  own  house ;  and  the  night  or  two  before  his  death,  cis 
I  have  already  said,  he  left  his  purse  on  the  mantel-piece, 
with  the  contents  of  which  they  paid  the  old  man's  debts 
and  buried  him  decently.  So  that  Edmond's  father  died 
as  he  had  lived,  without  doing  harm  to  any  one.  I  have 
the  purse  still  by  me,  —  a  large  one,  made  of  red  silk." 

"  And,"  asked  the  abbe,  "  is  M.  Morrel  still  alive  1 " 

"Yes,"  replied  Caderousse. 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  the  abbe,  "  he  should  be  a  man 
favored  of  God.     Is  he  rich,  happy  ? " 

Caderousse  smiled  bitterly.  "  Yes,  happy,  —  like  me," 
said  he. 

"  What,  M.  Morrel  unhappy ! "  exclaimed  the  abbe. 

"  He  is  reduced  almost  to  the  last  extremity,  —  naj^,  he 
is  almost  at  the  point  of  dishonor." 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  thatl" 

"  Yes,"  continued  Caderousse,  "  it  is  as  bad  as  that. 
After  twenty-five  years  of  labor,  after  having  acquired  a 
most  honorable  name  in  the  trade  of  Marseilles,  M.  Morrel 
is  utterly  ruined.  He  lias  lost  five  ships  in  two  years,  has 
suffered  by  the  bankruptcy  of  three  large  houses,  and  his 
only  hope  now  is  in  that  ver}'^  '  Pharaon '  which  poor 
Dantes  commanded,  and  which  is  expected  from  the  In- 
dies with  a  cargo  of  cochineal  and  indigo.  If  this  ship 
founders  like  the  others,  he  is  a  ruined  man." 

"And  has  the  unfortunate  man  wife  or  children?"  in- 
quired the  abb^. 

"  Yes,  he  has  a  wife,  who  in  all  this  has  behaved  like 
an  angel ;  he  has  a  daughter  who  Avas  about  to  marry  the 


342  THE   COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

man  she  loved,  but  whose  family  now  will  not  allow  him 
to  wed  the  daughter  of  a  ruined  man ;  he  has  besides  a 
son,  a  lieutenant  in  the  army ;  and  as  you  may  suppose, 
all  this,  instead  of  soothing,  doubles  his  grief.  If  he  were 
alone  in  the  world  he  would  blow  out  his  brains,  and  there 
would  be  an  end." 

"  Horrible  !  "  ejaculated  the  priest. 

"And  it  is  thus  that  Heaven  recompenses  virtue.  Mon- 
sieur," added  Caderousse.  "  You  see  I,  who  never  did  a 
bad  action  but  that  I  have  told  you  of,  am  in  destitution ; 
after  having  seen  my  poor  wife  die  of  a  fever,  unable  to 
do  anything  in  the  world  for  her,  I  shall  die  of  hunger 
as  old  Dantes  did,  while  Fernand  and  Danglars  are  roll- 
ing in  wealth." 

"  And  how  has  that  happened  1 " 

"  Because  with  them  everything  turns  out  well,  while 
with  those  who  are  honest  everything  goes  wrong." 

"What  has  become  of  Danglars,  the  instigator,  and 
therefore  the  most  guilty  1" 

"What  has  become  of  him?  Why,  he  left  Marseilles, 
and  was  taken  on  the  recommendation  of  M.  Morrel,  who 
did  not  know  his  crime,  into  a  Spanish  bank  as  cashier. 
During  the  war  with  Spain  he  was  employed  in  the  com- 
missariat of  the  French  army  and  made  a  fortune ;  then 
with  that  money  he  speculated  in  the  Funds  and  trebled 
or  quadrupled  his  capital,  and  having  first  married  his 
banker's  daugliter,  who  left  him  a  widower,  has  married 
a  second  time,  a  widow,  a  Madame  de  Nargonne,  daugh- 
ter of  M.  de  Servieux,  the  king's  chamberlain,  who  is  in 
high  favor  at  court.  He  is  a  millionnaire,  and  they  have 
made  him  a  count ;  and  now  he  is  the  Comte  Danglars, 
with  a  hotel  in  the  Rue  de  Mont  Blanc,  with  ten  horses  in 
his  stables,  six  footmen  in  his  ante-chamber,  and  I  know 
not  how  many  hundreds  of  thousands  in  his  strong-box." 


THE  RECITAL.  343 

"Ah!"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  peculiar  tone;  "and  is 
he  happy?" 

"Happy!  Who  can  answer  for  that?  Happiness  or 
unhappiness  is  the  secret  known  but  to  one's  self  and  the 
walls ;  walls  have  ears  but  no  tongue.  If  a  large  fortune 
produces  happiness,  Danglars  is  happy." 

"And  Fernandl" 

"  Fernand !    Why,  that  is  still  another  history." 

"But  how  could  a  poor  Catalan  fisher-boy,  without 
education  or  resources,  make  a  fortune?  I  confess  this 
surprises  me." 

"And  it  has  surprised  everybody.  There  must  have 
teen  in  his  life  some  strange  secret  no  one  knows." 

"  But  by  what  visible  steps  has  he  attained  this  high 
fortune  or  high  position?" 

"  Both,  Monsieur ;  he  has  both  fortune  and  position." 

"  You  are  giving  me  a  tale  of  fiction ! " 

"  It  would  seem  so ;  but  listen,  and  you  will  under- 
stand. Some  days  before  the  return  of  the  emperor, 
Fernand  was  drawn  in  the  conscription.  The  Bourbons 
left  him  quietly  enough  at  the  Catalans  ;  but  Napoleon  re- 
turned, an  extraordinary  muster  was  determined  on,  and 
Fernand  was  compelled  to  join.  I  went  too;  but  as  I 
was  older  than  Fernand,  and  had  just  married  my  poor 
wife,  I  was  sent  only  to  the  coast.  Fernand  was  enrolled 
in  the  active  forces,  went  to  the  frontier  with  his  regiment, 
and  was  at  the  battle  of  Ligny.  The  night  after  that  bat- 
tle he  was  sentry  at  the  door  of  a  general  who  carried  on  a 
secret  correspondence  with  the  enemy.  That  same  night 
the  general  was  to  go  over  to  the  English.  He  proposed 
to  Fernand  to  accompany  him ;  Fernand  agreed  to  do  so, 
deserted  his  post,  and  followed  the  general.  That  which 
would  have  brought  Fernand  to  a  court-martial  if  Napo- 
leon had  remained  on  the  throne,  served  for  his  recommen- 


344  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

dation  to  the  Bourbons.  He  returned  to  France  with  the 
epaulette  of  sub-lieutenant,  and  as  the  protection  of  the 
general,  who  is  in  the  highest  favor,  was  accorded  to  him, 
he  was  a  captain  in  1823  during  the  Spanish  war;  that 
is  to  say,  at  the  time  when  Danglars  made  his  early  specu- 
lations. Fernand  was  a  Spaniard ;  and  being  sent  to  Spain 
to  ascertain  the  feeling  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  found 
Danglars  there,  became  on  very  intimate  terms  with  him, 
procured  for  his  General  support  from  the  Eoyalists  of 
the  capital  and  the  provinces,  received  promises  and  made 
pledges  on  his  own  part,  guided  his  regiment  by  paths 
known  to  himself  alone  in  gorges  of  the  mountains  held 
by  the  Royalists,  and  in  fact  rendered  such  services  in 
this  brief  campaign  that  after  the  taking  of  Trocadero  he 
was  made  colonel,  and  received  the  title  of  count  and  the 
cross  of  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor," 

"  Destiny  !  destiny  !  "  murmured  the  abbe. 

"  Yes,  but  listen  ;  this  was  not  all.  The  war  with 
Spain  being  ended,  Fernand's  career  was  checked  by  the 
long  peace  which  seemed  likely  to  continue  throughout 
Europe.  Greece  only  had  risen  against  Turkey  and  had 
begun  her  war  of  independence  ;  all  eyes  were  turned 
towards  Athens,  —  it  was  the  fashion  to  pity  and  support 
the  Greeks.  The  French  Government,  without  protecting 
them  openly,  as  you  know,  tolerated  partial  migrations. 
Fernand  sought  and  obtained  leave  to  go  and  serve  in 
Greece,  still  having  his  name  kept  in  the  ranks  of  the 
army.  Some  time  after  it  was  stated  that  the  Comte  de 
Morcerf — this  was  the  name  he  bore  —  had  entered  the 
service  of  Ali  Paclia,  with  the  rank  of  instructor-general. 
Ali  Pacha  was  killed,  as  you  know  ;  but  before  he  died  he 
recompensed  the  services  of  Fernand  by  leaving  him  a 
considerable  sum,  with  which  he  returned  to  France, 
when  his  rank  of  lieutenant-general  was  confirmed." 


THE  RECITAL.  345 

"  So  that  now  —  "  inquired  the  abbe. 

"  So  that  now,"  continued  Caderousse,  "  he  possesses  a 
magnificent  hotel,  —  Xo.  27  Rue  du  Helder,  Paris." 

The  abbe  opened  his  mouth,  remained  for  a  moment 
like  a  man  who  hesitates,  then,  making  an  effort  over 
himself,  he  said,  "And  Mercedes,  — they  tell  me  that  she 
has  disappeared  1 " 

"Disappeared,"  said  Caderousse,  '*yes,  as  the  sun  dis- 
appears, to  rise  the  next  day  with  still  more  splendor." 

"  Has  she  also  made  a  fortune  1 "  inquired  the  abbe, 
with  an  ironical  smile. 

"  Mercedes  is  at  this  moment  one  of  the  greatest  ladies 
in  Paris,"  replied  Caderousse. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  abbe;  "it  seems  as  if  I  were 
hearing  the  recital  of  a  dream.  But  I  have  seen  things 
so  extraordinary  that  those  you  mention  to  me  seem 
less  astonishing." 

"Mercedes  was  at  first  in  the  deepest  despair  at  the 
blow  which  deprived  her  of  Edmond.  I  have  told  you  of 
her  attempts  to  propitiate  M.  de  Villefort,  her  devotion  to 
the  father  of  Dantes.  In  the  midst  of  her  despair,  a  fresh 
trouble  overtook  her.  Tins  was  the  departure  of  Fernand, 
—  of  Fernand,  whose  crime  she  did  not  know,  and  whom 
she  regarded  as  her  brother.  Fernand  went,  and  Mercedes 
remained  alone.  Three  months  she  spent  in  weeping; 
no  news  of  Edmond,  no  news  of  Fernand,  nothing  before 
her  but  an  old  man  who  was  dying  with  despair.  One 
evening,  after  having  been  seated,  as  was  her  custom,  all 
day  at  the  angle  of  two  roads  that  lead  to  Marseilles  from 
the  Catalans,  she  returned  to  her  home  more  depressed 
than  ever ;  neither  her  lover  nor  her  friend  returned  by 
either  of  these  roads,  and  she  had  no  intelligence  of  either. 
Suddenly  she  heard  a  step  she  knew,  turned  round  anx- 
iously, the  door  opened,  and  Fernand,  dressed  in  the  uni- 


346  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

form  of  a  sub-lieutenant,  stood  before  her.  It  was  not 
the  half  of  her  life  for  which  she  mourned ;  but  it  was 
still  a  portion  of  her  past  which  was  thus  returned  to  her. 
Mercedes  seized  Fernand's  hands  with  a  transport  which 
he  took  for  love,  but  which  was  only  joy  at  being  no 
longer  alone  in  the  world,  and  seeing  at  last  a  friend,  af- 
ter long  hours  of  solitary  sorrow.  And  then,  it  must  be 
confessed,  Fernand  had  never  been  an  object  of  dislike  to 
her ;  only  she  had  not  loved  him.  Another  possessed  all 
Mercedes's  heart ;  that  other  was  absent,  had  disappeared, 
perhaps  was  dead.  At  this  last  idea  Mercedes  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears  and  wrung  her  hands  in  agony  ;  but  this 
idea,  which  she  had  always  repelled  before  when  it  was 
suggested  to  her  by  another,  came  now  in  full  force  upon 
her  mind ;  and  then  too  old  Dantes  incessantly  said  to 
her,  *  Our  Edmond  is  dead ;  if  he  were  not  he  would 
return  to  us.'  The  old  man  died,  as  I  have  told  you; 
had  he  lived,  Mercedes,  perchance,  had  not  become  the 
wife  of  another,  for  he  would  have  been  there  to  reproach 
her  infidelity.  Fernand  saw  this,  and  when  he  learned 
the  old  man's  death  he  returned.  He  was  now  a  lieuten- 
ant. At  his  first  coming  he  had  not  said  a  word  of  love 
to  Mercedes ;  at  the  second  he  reminded  her  that  he  loved 
her.  Mercedes  begged  for  six  months  more  to  expect  and 
bewail  Edmond." 

"  So  that,"  said  the  abb^,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  that 
makes  eighteen  months  in  all.  What  more  could  the  most 
devoted  lover  desire  1 "  Then  he  murmured  the  words 
of  the  English  poet,  "  *  Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman.'  " 

"  Six  months  afterwards,"  continued  Caderousse,  "  the 
marriage  took  place  in  the  church  of  Accoules." 

"  The  very  church  in  which  she  was  to  have  married 
Edmond,"  murmured  the  priest ;  "  there  was  only  a 
change  of  bridegroom." 


THE  RECITAL.  347 

"Well,  Mercedes  was  married,"  proceeded  Caderousse -, 
"but  although  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  she  appeared 
calm,  she  nearly  fainted  as  she  passed  La  Reserve,  where 
eighteen  months  before,  the  betrothal  had  been  celebrated 
with  him  whom  she  would  have  seen  she  still  loved  had 
she  dared  to  search  her  heart.  Fernand,  more  happy,  but 
not  more  at  his  ease,  —  for  I  saw  at  this  time  he  was  in 
constant  dread  of  Edmond's  return,  —  was  very  anxious 
to  get  his  wife  away  and  to  depart  himself.  There  were 
too  many  dangers  and  recollections  associated  with  the 
Catalans,  and  eight  days  after  the  wedding  they  left 
Marseilles." 

*'  Did  you  ever  see  Mercedes  again  ?"  inquired  the  priest. 

"  Yes,  during  the  war  of  Spain,  at  Perpignan,  Avhere 
Fernand  had  left  her ;  she  was  attending  to  the  educa- 
tion  of  her  son." 

The  abbe  started.     "  Her  son  1 "  said  he. 

"Yes,"  replied  Caderousse  ;  "little  Albert." 

"  But,  then,  to  be  able  to  instruct  her  child,"  continued 
the  abb^,  "  she  must  have  received  an  education  herself. 
I  understood  from  Edmond  that  she  was  the  daughter  of 
a  simple  fisherman,  beautiful  but  uneducated." 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  Caderousse,  "  did  he  know  so  little  of 
his  betrothed  1  Mercedes  might  have  been  a  queen,  Mon- 
sieur, if  the  crown  were  to  be  placed  on  the  heads  of  the 
loveliest  and  most  intelligent.  Her  fortune  had  increased, 
and  she  became  greater  with  her  fortune.  She  learned 
drawing,  music, —  everything.  Besides,  I  believe,  between 
ourselves,  she  did  this  in  order  to  distract  her  mind,  that 
she  might  forget ;  and  she  only  filled  her  head  to  alleviate 
the  weight  on  her  heart.  But  now  everything  must  be' 
told,"  continued  Caderousse ;  "  no  doubt  fortune  and 
honors  have  comforted  her.  She  is  rich,  a  countess, 
and  yet  —  " 


348  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CPJSTO. 

"  And  yet  what  ?  "  asked  the  abbe. 

"  Yet  I  am  sure  she  is  not  happy,"  said  Caderousse. 

"  What  makes  you  believe  this  1 " 

"  Why,  when  I  have  found  myself  very  wretched,  I 
have  thought  ray  old  friends  would  perhaps  assist  me. 
So  I  went  to  Danglars,  who  would  not  even  receive  me ; 
I  called  on  Feruand,  who  sent  me  a  hundred  livres  by 
his  valet  de  chambre." 

"  Tlien  you  did  not  see  either  of  them  1  " 

"  No  ;  but  Madame  de  Morcerf  saw  me," 

"  How  was  that  1 " 

"  As  I  went  away  a  purse  fell  at  my  feet ;  it  contained 
five  and  twenty  louis.  I  raised  my  head  quickly  and  saw 
Mercedes,  who  shut  the  blind  directly." 

"And  M.  de  Villefort  1  "  asked  the  abbe'. 

"  Oh,  he  never  was  a  friend  of  mine  ;  I  did  not  know 
him,  and  I  had  nothing  to  ask  of  him." 

"  Do  you  not  know  what  became  of  him,  and  the  share 
he  had  in  Edmond's  misfortunes  1  " 

*'  No ;  I  only  know  that  some  time  after  having  arrested 
him,  he  married  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-lM^ran,  and  soon 
after  left  Marseilles.  No  doubt  but  he  has  been  as  lucky 
as  the  rest ;  no  doubt  he  is  as  rich  as  Danglars,  as  high 
in  station  as  Fernand.  I  only,  as  you  see,  have  remained 
poor,  wretched,  and  forgotten." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  friend,"  replied  the  abbe. 
"  God  may  seem  sometimes  to  forget  for  a  wliile,  while 
his  justice  reposes,  but  there  always  comes  a  moment 
when  he  remembers  —  and  behold  a  proof."  As  he 
spoke,  the  abbe  took  the  diamond  from  his  pocket, 
and  giving  it  to  Caderousse,  said,  "  Here,  my  friend, 
take  this  diamond  ;  it  is  yours." 

"What !  for  me  only?"  cried  Caderousse.  "Ah,  Mon- 
sieur, do  not  jest  with  me  !  " 


THE  RECITAL.  349 

'*  This  diamond  was  to  have  been  shared  among  his 
friends.  Edmond  bad  one  friend  only,  and  thus  it  cannot 
be  divided.  Take  the  diamond,  then,  and  sell  it.  It  is, 
as  I  have  said,  worth  fifty  thousand  livres  ;  and  I  trust 
that  this  sum  may  suffice  to  release  you  from  your 
wretchedness." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,"  said  Caderousse,  putting  out  one  hand 
timidly,  and  with  the  other  wiping  away  the  perspiration 
which  bedewed  his  brow,  —  "  oh,  Monsieur,  do  not  make 
a  jest  of  a  man's  happiness  or  despair  !  " 

"  I  know  what  happiness  and  what  despair  are,  and  I 
never  make  a  jest  of  such  feelings.  Take  it,  then,  but  in 
exchange  —  " 

Caderousse,  who  touched  the  diamond,  withdrew  his 
hand.  The  abbe  smiled.  "  In  exchange,"  he  continued, 
"give  me  the  red  silk  purse  that  M.  Morrel  left  on  old 
Dantes's  chimney-piece,  and  which  you  tell  me  is  still  in 
your  hands." 

Caderousse,  more  and  more  astonished,  went  to  a  large 
oaken  cupboard,  opened  it,  and  gave  the  abbe  a  long  purse 
of  faded  red  silk,  round  which  were  two  copper  runners 
that  had  once  been  gilt.  The  abbe  took  it,  and  in  return 
gave  Caderousse  the  diamond. 

"  Oh  !  you  are  a  man  of  God,  sir,"  cried  Caderousse ; 
"  for  no  one  knew  that  Edmond  had  given  you  this 
diamond,  and  you  might  have  kept  it." 

"  Which,"  said  the  abbe  to  himself,  "  you  would  have 
done,  it  appears."  He  rose  and  took  his  hat  and  gloves. 
"  WeU,"  he  said,  "  all  that  you  have  told  me  is  perfectly 
true,  then,  and  I  may  believe  it  in  every  particular  1 " 

"See,  Monsieur  the  Abbe,"  replied  Caderousse,  "in  this 
corner  is  a  crucifix  of  holy  wood ;  here  ou  this  shelf  is  my 
wife's  Bible.  Open  this  book,  and  I  will  swear  upon  it  with 
my  hand  on  the  crucifix,  by  my  soul's  salvation,  my  faith  as 


350  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

a  Christian,  that  I  have  told  everything  to  you  as  it  oc- 
curred, and  as  the  angel  of  men  will  tell  it  to  the  ear  of 
God  at  the  day  of  the  last  judgment  !  " 

"'Tis  well,"  said  the  abbe,  convinced  by  his  manner 
'  and  tone  that  Caderousse  spoke  the  truth.  "  'T  is  well, 
and  may  this  money  profit  you  !  Adieu  !  I  return  to  my 
place  apart  from  men  who  thus  do  evil  to  one  another." 

The  abbe  with  difficulty  got  away  from  the  enthusiastic 
thanks  of  Caderousse,  opened  the  door  himself,  got  out 
and  mounted  his  horse,  once  more  saluted  the  innkeeper, 
who  kept  uttering  his  loud  farewells,  and  then  returned 
by  the  road  he  had  travelled  in  coming.  When  Cade- 
rousse turned  round,  he  saw  behind  him  La  Carconte, 
paler,  and  trembling  more  than  ever. 

"  Is,  then,  all  that  I  have  heard  really  true  1 "  she 
inquired. 

"  What !  that  he  has  given  the  diamond  to  us  only  '?  " 
inquired  Caderousse,  half-bewildered  with  joy. 

"  Yes." 

"  Nothing  more  true  !     See  !  here  it  is." 

The  woman  gazed  at  it  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a 
gloomy  voice,  "  Suppose  it 's  false  ]  " 

Caderousse  started  and  turned  pale.  "  False ! "  he  mut- 
tered. "  False  !  why  should  that  man  give  me  a  false 
diamond  1 " 

"  To  possess  your  secret  without  paying  for  it,  you 
blockhead  !  " 

Caderousse  remained  for  a  moment  aghast  under  the 
weight  of  such  an  idea.  "Oh  !  "  he  said,  taking  up  his 
hat,  which  he  placed  on  the  red  handkerchief  tied  round 
his  head,  "  we  will  soon  learn  that." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  is  the  fair  of  Beaucaire  ;  there  are  always 
jewellers  from  Paris  there,  and  I  will  show  it  to  them. 


THE  RECITAL.  351 

Take  care  of  the  house,  Wife,  and  I  will  be  back  in  two 
hours."  Caderousse  left  the  house  in  haste,  and  ran 
rapidly  in  a  direction  contrary  to  that  which  the  un- 
known had  taken. 

"  Fifty  thousand  livres  !  "  muttered  La  Carconte,  when 
left  alone ;  "it  is  a  large  sum  of  money,  but  it  is  not  a 
fortune." 


352  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE   PRISON   REGISTER. 

The  day  after  that  on  which  occurred  the  intervie'w  de- 
scribed above,  a  man  about  thirty  or  thirty-two  years  of 
age,  dressed  in  a  bright  bkie  frock-coat,  nankeen  trousers, 
and  a  white  waistcoat,  having  the  appearance  and  accent 
of  an  Enghshman,  presented  himself  before  the  mayor  of 
Marseilles.  "  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  I  am  chief  clerk  of 
the  house  of  Thomson  and  French,  of  Rome.  We  are, 
and  have  been  these  ten  years,  connected  with  the  house 
of  Morrel  and  Son,  of  Marseilles.  We  have  a  hundred 
thousand  livres  or  thereabouts  engaged  in  speculation 
with  them,  and  we  are  a  little  uneasy  at  reports  that 
have  reached  us  that  the  firm  is  on  the  eve  of  ruin.  I 
have  come,  therefore,  express  from  Rome,  to  ask  you  for 
information  as  to  this  house." 

'*  Monsieur,"  replied  the  mayor,  "  I  know  very  well 
that  during  the  last  four  or  five  years,  misfortune  seems 
to  pursue  M.  Morrel.  He  has  lost  four  or  five  vessels, 
and  suffered  by  three  or  four  bankruptcies  ;  but  it  is  not 
for  me,  although  I  am  a  creditor  myself  to  the  amount 
of  ten  thousand  livres,  to  give  any  information  as  to  the 
state  of  his  finances.  If  you  ask  of  me,  as  mayor,  what  is 
my  opinion  of  M.  Morrel,  I  shall  say  he  is  a  man  honora 
ble  to  the  last  degree,  who  has  up  to  this  time  fulfilled 
every  engagement  with  scrupulous  punctuality.  This  is 
all  I  can  say.  Monsieur ;  if  you  wish  to  learn  more,  ad- 


THE  PRISON  REGISTER,  353 

dress  yourself  to  M,  de  Boville,  the  inspector  of  prisons, 
No.  15  Rue  de  Nouailles.  He  has,  I  believe,  two  hundred 
thousand  livres  placed  in  the  hands  of  Morrel ;  and  if  there 
be  any  grounds  for  apprehension,  as  this  is  a  greater  amount 
than  mine,  you  will  most  probably  find  him  better  informed 
than  myself." 

The  Englishman  seemed  to  appreciate  this  extreme  deli- 
cacy, made  his  bow,  and  went  away,  walking  with  that 
step  peculiar  to  the  sons  of  Great  Britain  towards  the 
street  mentioned.  M.  de  Boville  was  in  his  private  room, 
and  the  Enghshman  on  perceiving  him  made  a  gesture  of 
surprise  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  it  was  not  the  first 
time  he  had  been  in  his  presence.  As  to  M.  de  Boville, 
he  was  in  such  a  state  of  despair  that  it  was  evident  that 
all  the  faculties  of  his  mind  were  absorbed  in  the  thought 
which  occupied  him  at  the  moment,  and  that  neither  his 
memory  nor  his  imagination  had  leisure  for  recurring  to 
the  past.  The  Englishman,  with  the  coolness  of  his 
nation,  addressed  him  in  terms  nearly  similar  to  those 
with  which  he  had  accosted  the  mayor  of  ^Marseilles. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,"  exclaimed  M.  de  Boville,  "  your  fears 
are  unfortunately  but  too  well  founded,  and  you  see  before 
you  a  man  in  despair.  I  had  two  hundred  thousand  livres 
placed  in  the  hands  of  Morrel  and  Son ;  these  two  hundred 
thousand  livres  were  my  daughter's  dowry,  who  was  to  be 
married  in  a  fortnight,  and  they  were  payable,  half  on  the 
15th  of  this  month,  and  the  other  half  on  the  15th  of 
next  month.  I  had  informed  M.  Morrel  of  my  desire  to 
have  these  payments  punctually;  and  he  has  been  here 
within  the  last  half-hour  to  tell  me  that  if  his  ship,  the 
'Pharaon,'  did  not  come  into  port  on  the  15th,  he  would 
be  wholly  unable  to  make  this  payment." 

"But,"  said  the  Englishman,  "this  looks  very  much 
like  a  suspension  of  payments  ! " 

VOL.    I.  —  23 


354  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Say,  Monsieur,  that  it  resembles  a  bankruptcy  I  '* 
exclaimed  M.  de  Boville,  despairingly. 

The  Englishman  appeared  to  reflect  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  "  So,  Monsieur,  this  credit  inspires  you  with 
considerable  apprehension  ] " 

"  To  say  truth,  I  consider  it  lost." 

"Well,  then,  I  will  buy  it  of  you." 

"Youl" 

"  Yes,  I." 

"  But  at  a  tremendous  discount,  of  course?" 

"  No,  for  two  hundred  thousand  livres.  Our  house," 
added  the  Englishman,  with  a  laugh,  "  does  not  do  things 
in  that  way." 

"  And  you  will  pay  —  " 

"  Eeady  money."  And  the  Englishman  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  bundle  of  bank-notes,  which  might  have  been 
twice  the  sum  M.  de  Boville  feared  to  lose. 

A  ray  of  joy  passed  across  M.  de  Boville's  countenance, 
yet  he  made  an  effort  over  himself  and  said,  "  Monsieur, 
I  ought  to  tell  you  that  in  all  probability  you  will  not 
have  six  per  cent  of  this  sum." 

"  That 's  no  affair  of  mine,"  replied  the  Englishman ; 
"  that  is  the  affair  of  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French, 
in  whose  name  I  act.  They  have  perhaps  some  motive  to 
serve  in  hastening  the  ruin  of  a  rival  firm.  But  all  I 
laiow,  Monsieur,  is  that  I  am  ready  to  hand  you  over  this 
sum  in  exchange  for  your  assignment  of  the  debt.  I 
only  ask  a  brokerage." 

"  Of  course  that  is  perfectly  just,"  cried  M.  de  Boville. 
"The  commission  is  usually  one  and  a  half;  will  you  have 
two,  three,  five  per  cent,  or  even  more  1     Speak  ! " 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  Englishman,  laughing,  "I  am 
like  my  house,  and  do  not  do  such  things ;  no,  the  com- 
mission I  ask  is  quite  different." 


THE  PRISON  REGISTER.  365 

"N'ame  it,  Monsieur,  I  beg." 

"  You  are  tlie  inspector  of  prisons  1 " 

"  I  have  been  so  these  fourteen  years." 

"  You  keep  the  registers  of  entries  and  departures  1 " 

"I  do." 

"To  these  registers  there  are  added  notes  relative  to 
the  prisoners  1  " 

**  There  are  special  reports  on  every  prisoner." 

"Well,  Monsieur,  I  was  educated  at  Rome  by  a  poor 
devil  of  an  abbe,  who  disappeared  suddenly.  I  have  since 
learned  that  he  was  confined  in  the  Chateau  d'lf,  and  I 
should  like  to  learn  some  particulars  of  his  death." 

"  What  was  his  name  ] " 

"  The  Abbe  Faria." 

**  Oh,  I  recollect  him  perfectly,"  cried  M.  de  Boville ; 
"he  was  crazy." 

"  So  they  said." 

"  Oh,  he  was,  decidedly." 

*'  Very  possibly ;  but  what  sort  of  madness  was  HI" 

"  He  pretended  to  know  of  an  immense  treasure,  and 
offered  vast  sums  to  Government  if  they  would  liberate 
him." 

"Poor  devil !  and  he  is  dead?" 

*'  Yes,  sir ;  five  or  six  months  ago  last  February." 

"  You  have  a  good  memory,  sir,  to  recollect  dates  so 
weU." 

*'  I  recollect  this  because  the  poor  devil's  death  was 
accompanied  by  a  singular  circumstance." 

"May  I  ask  what  that  wasi"  asked  the  Englishman, 
with  an  expression  of  curiosity  which  a  close  observer 
would  have  been  astonished  at  discovering  in  his  phleg- 
matic countenance. 

"Oh,  dear,  yes,  Monsieur;  the  abba's  dungeon  was 
forty  or  fifty  feet  distant  from  that  of  an  old  agent  of 


356  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Bonaparte,  one  of  those  who  had  contributed  most  actively 
to  the  return  of  the  usurper  in  1815,  —  a  very  resolute 
and  very  dangerous  man." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  the  Englishman. 

"Yes,"  replied  M.  de  Boville;  "I  myself  had  occasion 
to  see  this  man  in  1816  or  1817,  and  we  could  go  into  his 
dungeon  only  with  a  file  of  soldiers.  That  man  made 
a  deep  impression  on  me.  I  shall  never  forget  his 
countenance  !  " 

The  Englishman  smiled  imperceptibly.  "And  you 
say.  Monsieur,"  he  said,  '*  that  the  two  dungeons  —  " 

"  —  Were  separated  by  a  distance  of  fifty  feet;  but  it 
appears  that  this  Edmond  Dantes  —  " 

*'  This  dangerous  man's  name  was  —  " 

"Edmond  Dantes.  It  appears,  Monsieur,  that  this 
Edmond  Dantes  had  procured  tools,  or  made  them, 
for  they  found  a  passage  by  which  the  prisoners 
communicated." 

"  This  passage  was  formed,  no  doubt,  with  an  inten- 
tion of  escape  1 " 

"  No  doubt ;  but  unfortunately  for  the  prisoners,  the 
Abb^  Faria  had  an  attack  of  catalepsy  and  died." 

"  I  see ;  that  would  naturally  cut  short  the  projects  of 
escape." 

"  For  the  dead  man,  yes,"  replied  M.  de  Boville  ;  "  but 
not  for  the  survivor.  On  the  contrary,  this  Dantes  saw  a 
means  of  accelerating  his  escape.  He  no  doubt  thought 
that  prisoners  who  died  in  the  Chateau  d'lf  were  interred 
in  a  burial-ground  as  usual ;  and  he  conveyed  the  dead 
man  into  his  own  cell,  assumed  his  place  in  the  sack  in 
which  they  had  sewn  up  the  defunct,  and  awaited  the 
moment  of  interment." 

"  It  was  a  bold  step,  and  one  that  indicated  some 
courage,"  remarked  the  Englishman. 


THE  PRISON  REGISTER.  357 

"  As  I  have  already  told  you,  Monsieur,  he  was  a  very 
dangerous  man ;  and  fortunately  by  his  own  act  disem- 
barrassed the  Government  of  the  fears  it  had  on  his 
account." 

"  How  was  that  ] " 

"  How  1  do  you  not  comprehend  ? " 

"No." 

"  The  Chateau  d'lf  has  no  cemetery ;  and  they  simply 
throw  the  dead  into  tlie  sea,  after  having  fastened  a  tliirty- 
six  pound  bullet  to  their  feet." 

"  Well  ■? "  observed  the  Englishman,  as  if  he  were  slow 
of  comprehension. 

"  Well,  they  fastened  a  thirty-six  pound  bullet  to  his 
feet  and  threw  him  into  the  sea." 

"  Really  ]  "  exclaimed  the  Englishman. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  continued  the  inspector  of  prisons. 
"  You  may  imagine  the  amazement  of  the  fugitive  when 
he  found  himself  liung  headlong  down  towards  the  rocks. 
I  should  like  to  have  seen  his  face  at  that  moment." 

"  That  would  have  been  difficult." 

"  No  matter,"  replied  M.  de  Boville  in  supreme  good- 
humor  at  the  certainty  of  recovering  his  two  hundred 
thousand  livres,  —  "  no  matter ;  I  can  fancy  it."  And  he 
shouted  with  laughter. 

"  So  can  I,"  said  the  Englishman,  and  he  laughed  too  ; 
but  he  laughed  as  the  English  do,  at  the  end  of  his  teeth. 
"  And  so,"  continued  the  Englishman,  who  first  gained 
his  composure,  "  he  was  drowned  1 " 

"  Unquestionably." 

"So  that  the  governor  got  rid  of  the  fierce  and  the 
crazy  prisoner  at  the  same  time  ] " 

"  Precisely." 

"  But  some  official  document  was  drawn  up  as  to  this 
afikir,  I  suppose?"  inquired  the  Englishman. 


358  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  the  mortuary  deposition.  You  understand 
that  Dantes's  relatives,  if  he  had  any,  might  have  some 
interest  in  knowing  if  he  were  dead  or  alive." 

"  So  that  now,  if  there  were  anything  to  inherit  from 
him,  they  may  do  so  with  easy  conscience.  He  is  dead, 
and  no  mistake  about  it  1 " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  they  may  have  the  fact  attested  when- 
ever they  please." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  the  Englishman.  "  But  to  return  to 
these  registers." 

"  True,  tliis  story  has  diverted  our  attention  from  them. 
Excuse  me." 

"  Excuse  you  for  what,  —  for  the  story  1  By  no  means ; 
it  really  seems  to  me  very  curious." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  So,  Monsieur,  you  wish  to  see  all  relat- 
ing to  the  poor  abbe,  who  really  was  gentleness  itself?" 

"Yes,  you  will  much  oblige  me." 

"Go  into  my  study  here,  and  I  will  show  it  to  you;" 
and  they  both  entered  M.  de  Boville's  study.  All  was 
here  arranged  in  perfect  order ;  each  register  had  its  num- 
ber, each  file  of  paper  its  place.  The  inspector  begged  the 
Englishman  to  seat  himself  in  an  armchair,  and  placed  be- 
fore him  the  register  and  documents  relative  to  the  Cha- 
teau d'lf,  giving  him  all  the  time  he  desired  to  examine  it, 
while  he  seated  himself  in  a  corner  and  began  to  read  his 
newspaper.  The  Englishman  easily  found  the  entries  rela- 
tive to  the  Abbe  Faria ;  but  it  seemed  that  the  history 
which  the  inspector  had  related  interested  him  greatly, 
for  after  having  perused  the  first  documents  he  turned 
over  the  leaves  until  he  reached  the  deposition  respecting 
Edmond  Dantes.  There  he  found  everything  in  its  place, 
—  the  denunciation,  examination,  Morrel's  petition,  M.  de 
Villefort's  marginal  notes.  He  folded  up  the  denunciation 
quietly  and  put  it  as  quietly  in  his  pocket,  read  the  ex- 


THE  PRISON  REGISTER.  359 

amination  and  saw  that  the  name  of  Noirtier  was  not 
mentioned  in  it,  perused  too  the  application,  dated  10th 
April,  1815,  in  which  Morrel,  by  the  deputy  procureur's 
advice,  exaggerated  with  the  best  intentions  (for  I^apoleon 
was  then  on  the  throne)  the  services  Dantes  had  rendered 
to  the  imperial  cause,  —  services  which  Yillefort's  certiti- 
cates  rendered  indisputable.  Then  he  understood  the 
matter.  This  petition  to  Napoleon,  kept  back  by  Ville- 
fort,  had  become  under  the  second  restoration  a  terrible 
weapon  against  him  in  the  hands  of  the  procureur  du 
roi.  He  was  no  longer  astonished  when  he  searched  on 
to  find  in  the  register  this  note,  placed  in  a  bracket 
against  his  name  :  — 

/  Violent  Bonapartist ;  took  an  active  part 
J      in  the  return  from  Elba. 
Edmond  DantI;s.<  The  greatest  watchfubiess  and  care  to  be 
(^     exercised. 

Beneath  these  lines  was  written  in  another  hand  :  "  See 
note  above,  —  nothing  can  be  done."  He  compared  the 
writing  in  the  bracket  with  the  writing  of  the  certificate 
placed  beneath  Morrel's  petition,  and  discovered  that  the 
note  in  the  bracket  was  in  the  same  writing  as  the  certifi- 
cate, —  that  is  to  say,  was  in  Villefort's  handwriting.  As 
to  the  note  which  accompanied  this,  the  Englishman  un- 
derstood that  it  might  have  been  added  by  some  inspector 
who  had  taken  a  momentary  interest  in  Dantes's  situation, 
but  who  had,  on  account  of  the  records  we  have  given, 
found  it  impossible  to  give  any  effect  to  the  interest  he 
experienced. 

As  we  have  said,  the  inspector,  from  discretion,  and 
that  he  might  not  disturb  the  Abbd  Faria's  pupil  in 
his  researches,  had  seated  himself  in  a  corner  and  was 
reading  "  Le  Drapeau  Blanc."     He  did  not  see  the  Eng- 


360  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

lishman  fold  up  and  place  in  his  pocket  tlie  denunciation 
written  by  Danglars  under  the  arbor  of  La  Reserve,  and 
"which  had  the  post-mark  of  Marseilles,  March  2,  delivery 
six  o'clock  p.  M.  But  it  must  be  said  that  if  he  had  seen 
it,  he  attached  so  small  importance  to  this  scrap  of  paper, 
and  so  great  importance  to  his  two  hundred  thousand 
livres,  that  he  would  not  have  opposed  what  the  English- 
man did,  however  irregular  it  might  be. 

"  Thanks  ! "  said  the  latter,  closing  the  register  with  a 
noise,  "  I  have  all  I  want ;  now  it  is  for  me  to  perform 
my  promise.  Give  me  a  simple  assignment  of  your  debt, 
acknowledge  therein  the  receipt  of  the  cash,  and  I  will 
hand  you  over  the  money."  He  rose,  gave  his  seat  to 
M.  de  Boville,  who  took  it  without  ceremony  and  quickly 
drew  up  the  required  assignment,  while  the  Englishman 
was  counting  out  the  bank-notes  on  the  other  side  of 
the  desk. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON.  361 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE    HOUSE    OF    MORREL    AND    SON. 

Ant  one  who  bad  quitted  Marseilles  a  few  years  pre- 
viously, Avell  acquainted  with  the  house  of  Morrel  and  Sun, 
and  had  returned  at  this  date,  would  have  found  a  great 
change  in  it.  Instead  of  that  air  of  life,  of  comfort,  and 
of  happiness  that  exhales  from  a  flourishing  and  prosper- 
ous house ;  instead  of  the  merry  faces  seen  at  the  windows ; 
instead  of  the  busy  clerks  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  long 
corridors ;  instead  of  the  court  fiUed  with  bales  of  goods, 
re-echoing  the  cries  and  the  jokes  of  the  porters,  —  he 
would  have  at  once  perceived  an  air  of  sadness  and  gloom. 
In  the  deserted  corridor  and  the  empty  ofuce,  out  of  aU 
the  numerous  clerks  who  used  to  fill  the  office  but  two 
remained.  One  was  a  young  man  of  three  or  four  and 
twenty,  named  Emmanuel  Herbaut,  who  was  in  love  with 
M.  Morrel's  daughter,  and  had  remained  with  him  against 
the  efforts  of  his  friends  to  induce  liim  to  withdraw  ;  the 
other  was  an  old  one-eyed  cashier,  named  Codes,  a  nick- 
name given  him  by  the  young  men  who  used  to  inhabit  this 
vast  bee-hive,  now  almost  deserted,  and  which  had  so  com- 
pletely replaced  his  real  name  that  he  would  not  in  all  prob- 
ability have  replied  to  any  one  who  addressed  him  by  it. 

Codes  remained  in  M.  Morrel's  service,  and  a  most  sin- 
gular change  had  taken  place  in  his  situation ;  he  had  at 
the  same  time  risen  to  the  rank  of  cashier  and  sunk  to  the 
rank  of  a  servant.  He  was,  however,  the  same  Codes, 
good,  patient,  devoted,  but  inflexible  on  the  subject  of 


362  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

arithmetic,  the  only  point  on  which  he  would  have  stood 
firm  against  the  world,  even  against  M.  Morrel,  and  strong 
in  the  multiplication  table,  which  he  had  at  his  fingers' 
ends,  no  matter  what  scheme  or  wliat  trap  was  laid  to 
catch  him.  In  the  midst  of  the  distress  of  the  house. 
Codes  was  the  only  one  unmoved.  Tliis  did  not  arise 
from  a  want  of  afifection,  but  on  the  contrary  from  a  firm 
conviction.  Like  rats  that  leave  by  degrees  the  vessel 
doomed  to  perish  at  sea,  until  all  these  egotistical  guests 
have  completely  abandoned  the  ship  at  the  moment  when 
the  vessel  weighs  anchor,  so  all  these  numerous  clerks  had 
by  degrees  deserted  the  bureaux  and  warehouse.  Codes 
had  seen  them  go  without  thinking  of  inquiring  the  cause 
of  their  departure.  Everything  was,  as  we  have  said,  a 
question  of  arithmetic  to  Codes ;  and  during  twenty  years 
he  had  always  seen  all  payments  made  with  such  exacti- 
tude that  it  seemed  as  impossible  to  him  that  the  house 
should  stop  payment  as  it  would  to  a  miller  that  the  river 
that  had  so  long  turned  his  mill  should  cease  to  flow. 

Nothing  had  as  yet  occurred  to  shake  Cocles's  belief; 
the  last  month's  payments  had  been  made  with  the  most 
scrupulous  exactitude.  Codes  had  detected  an  error  of 
fourteen  sous  to  the  prejudice  of  Morrel,  and  the  same 
evening  he  had  brought  them  to  M.  Morrel,  who  with 
a  melancholy  smile  threw  them  into  an  almost  empty 
drawer,  saying,  "Thanks,  Coclte;  you  are  the  pearl  of 
cashiers." 

Codes  retired  perfectly  happy,  for  by  this  eulogium  of 
M.  Morrel,  himself  the  pearl  of  the  honest  men  of  Mar- 
seilles, he  was  more  pleased  than  he  would  have  been  by 
a  present  of  fifty  pounds.  But  since  the  end  of  the  month 
M.  Morrel  had  passed  many  an  anxious  hour.  In  order 
to  meet  the. end  of  the  month,  he  had  collected  all  his  re- 
sources ;  and  fearing  lest  the  report  of  his  distress  should 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON.  363 

get  bruited  abroad  at  Marseilles  when  he  was  known  to 
have  recourse  to  such  measures,  he  went  to  the  fair  of 
Beaucaire  to  sell  his  wife's  and  daughter's  jewels,  and  a 
portion  of  his  plate.  By  this  means  the  honor  of  the  house 
was  still  maintained  ;  but  his  resources  were  now  ex- 
hausted. Credit,  owing  to  the  reports  afloat,  was  no  longer  to 
be  had ;  and  to  meet  the  one  hundred  thousand  livres  due  on 
the  15th  of  the  present  month  to  M.  de  Boville,  and  tlie 
one  hundred  thousand  due  on  the  15th  of  the  next  month, 
M.  Morrel  had  in  reality  no  hope  but  the  return  of  the 
*'  Pharaon,"  whose  departure  he  had  learned  from  a  vessel 
which  had  weighed  anchor  at  the  same  time,  and  which  had 
already  arrived  in  harbor.  But  this  vessel,  which  like 
the  "  Pharaon  "  came  from  Calcutta,  had  arrived  a  fort- 
night before,  while  no  intelligence  had  been  received 
of  the   "Pharaon." 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when,  the  day  after  his  in- 
terview with  M.  de  Boville,  the  confidential  clerk  of  the 
house  of  Thomson  and  French,  of  Rome,  presented  him- 
self at  M.  Morrel's.  Emmanuel  received  him ;  the  young 
man  —  whom  every  new  face  alarmed,  for  each  new  face 
announced  a  new  creditor  coming  in  alarm  to  question 
the  head  of  the  house  —  wished  to  spare  his  employer  the 
pain  of  this  interview,  and  questioned  the  new-comer  ;  but 
the  stranger  declared  he  had  nothing  to  say  to  Emmanuel, 
and  that  his  business  was  with  M.  Morrel  in  person.  Em- 
manuel sighed,  and  summoned  Codes.  Codes  appeared  ; 
and  the  young  man  bade  him  conduct  the  stranger  to 
M.  Morrel's  apartment.  Codes  went  first,  and  the 
stranger  followed  him.  On  the  staircase  they  met  a  beau- 
tiful girl  of  sixteen  or  seventeen,  who  looked  with  anxiety 
at  the  stranger. 

"  M.  Morrel  is  in  his  ofl&ce,  is  he  not.  Mademoiselle 
Julie  ]  "  said  the  cashier. 


364  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes  ;  I  think  so,  at  least,"  said  the  young  girl,  hesita- 
tingly. "  Go  and  see,  Codes ;  and  if  my  father  is  there 
announce  this  gentleman." 

"  It  will  be  useless  to  announce  me.  Mademoiselle,"  re- 
turned the  Englishman.  "  M.  Morrel  does  not  know  my 
name ;  this  worthy  gentleman  has  only  to  announce  the 
confidential  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French, 
of  Rome,  with  whom  your  father  does  business." 

The  young  girl  turned  pale,  and  continued  to  descend, 
while  the  stranger  and  Codes  continued  to  mount  the 
staircase.  She  entered  the  office  where  Emmanuel  was, 
while  Codes,  by  the  aid  of  a  key  he  pos.sessed,  opened  a 
door  in  the  corner  of  a  landing-place  on  the  second  stair- 
case, conducted  the  stranger  into  an  ante-chamber,  opened 
a  second  door,  which  he  closed  behind  him,  and  after  hav- 
ing left  the  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French 
alone  for  a  moment,  returned  and  signed  to  him  that  he 
could  enter.  The  Englishman  entered,  and  found  Morrel 
seated  at  a  table,  turning  over  the  formidable  columns 
of  his  ledger,  which  contained  the  list  of  his  liabilities. 
At  the  sight  of  the  stranger,  ^I.  Morrel  closed  the  ledger, 
rose,  and  offered  a  seat  to  the  stranger ;  and  when  he  had 
seen  him  seated,  resumed  his  own  chair.  Fourteen  years 
had  changed  the  worthy  merchant,  w'ho,  in  his  thirty-sixth 
year  at  the  opening  of  this  history,  was  now  in  his  fiftieth. 
His  hair  had  turned  white  ;  time  and  sorrow  had  ploughed 
deep  furrows  on  his  brow  ;  and  his  look,  once  so  firm  and 
penetrating,  was  now  irresolute  and  wandering,  as  if  he 
feared  being  forced  to  fix  his  attention  on  an  idea  or  a 
man.  The  Englishman  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  curi- 
osity evidently  mingled  with  interest.  "  Monsieur,"  said 
Morrel,  whose  uneasiness  was  increased  by  this  examina- 
tion, "you  wish  to  speak  to  mel " 

**  Yes,  Monsieur  ;  you  are  aware  from  whom  I  come  1 " 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON".  365 

"  The  house  of  Thomson  and  French ;  at  least  so  my 
cashier  tells  me." 

"  He  has  told  you  rightly.  The  house  of  Thomson  and 
French  had  three  or  four  hundred  thousand  livres  to  pay 
this  month  in  France,  and  knowing  your  strict  punctualitj', 
have  collected  all  the  bills  bearing  your  signature,  and 
charged  me  as  tliey  became  due  to  present  them,  and  to 
make  use  of  the  money."  Morrel  sighed  deeply  and 
passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  which  was  covered  with 
perspiration. 

"So,  then,  sir,"  said  Morrel,  "you  hold  bills  of  mine?" 
"Yes,  and  for  a  considerable  sum." 
"  What  is  the  amount  1  "  asked  Morrel,  with  a  voice  he 
strove  to  render  firm. 

"  Here  is,"  said  the  Englishman,  taking  a  quantity  of 
papers  from  his  pocket,  "  an  assignment  of  two  hundred 
thousand  livres  to  our  house  by  M.  de  Boville,  the  in- 
spector of  prisons,  to  whom  they  are  due.  You  acknowl- 
edge, of  course,  that  you  owe  this  sum  to  him  1 " 

"  Yes  ;  he  placed  the  money  in  my  hands  at  four  and 
a  half  per  cent  nearly  five  years  ago." 
"  When  are  you  to  pay  ?  " 

"Half  the  15th  of  this  month,  half  the  15th  of  next." 
"Just   so;    and    now  here  are  32,500   livres    payable 
shortly.      They  are   all   signed  by  you   and  assigned  to 
our  house    by  the    holders." 

"I  recognize  them,"  said  M.  Morrel,  whose  face  was 
sufi"used  as  he  thought  that  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  w^ould  be  unable  to  honor  his  own  signature.  "Is 
this  all  ] " 

"  iSI'o  j  I  have  for  the  end  of  the  month  these  bills,  which 
have  been  assigned  to  us  by  the  house  of  Pascal,  and  the 
house  of  Wild  and  Turner,  of  Marseilles,  amounting  to 
nearly  fifty-five  thousand  livres,  —  in  all,  287,500  livres." 


366  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  what  Morrel  suffered  during 
this  enumeration.     "  287,500  livres  !  "  repeated  he. 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "I  will 
not,"  continued  he,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "conceal 
from  you  that  while  your  probity  and  exactitude  up  to 
this  moment  are  universally  acknowledged,  yet  the  report 
is  current  in  Marseilles  that  you  are  not  able  to  meet  your 
engagements." 

At  this  almost  brutal  speech  Morrel  turned  deathly  pale. 
"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "up  to  this  time  —  and  it  is  now 
more  than  four  and  twenty  years  since  I  received  the  di- 
recuon  of  this  house  from  my  father,  who  had  himself  con- 
ducted it  for  five  and  thirty  years  —  never  has  anything 
bearing  the  signature  of  Morrel  and  Son  been  dishonored." 

"  I  know  that,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "  But  as  a 
man  of  honor  should  answer  another,  tell  me  fairly,  shall 
you  pay  these  with  the  same  punctuality  1 " 

Morrel  shuddered,  and  looked  at  the  man  who  had 
spoken  thus  with  more  assurance  than  he  had  hitherto 
shown.  "  To  questions  frankly  put,"  said  he,  "  a  straight- 
forward answer  should  be  given.  Yes,  I  shall  pay  if,  as  I 
hope,  my  vessel  arrives  safely,  —  for  its  arrival  will  again 
procure  me  the  credit  which  the  numerous  accidents  of 
which  I  have  been  the  victim  have  deprived  me  ;  but  if 
the  *  Pliaraon '  should  be  lost,  and  this  last  resource  be 
gone  — "     The  poor  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Well,"  said  tlie  other,  "  if  this  last  resource  fail  you  1  " 

"  Well,"  returned  Morrel,  "  it  is  a  cruel  thing  to  be 
forced  to  say,  but  already  used  to  misfortune,  I  must 
habituate  myself  to  shame.  I  fear  I  shall  be  forced  to 
suspend  my  payments." 

"  Have  you  no  friends  who  could  assist  you  1  ** 

Morrel  smiled  mournfully.  "In  business.  Monsieur," 
said  he,  "  one  has  no  friends,  only  correspondents." 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MOREEL  AND  SON.  367 

"It  is  true,"  murmured  the  Englishman;  "then  you 
have  but  one  hopel" 

"  But  one." 

"  The  last  ]  " 

"The  last." 

"  So  that  if  this  fail  —  " 

"  I  am  ruined,  completely  ruined  !  " 

"  As  I  came  here,  a  vessel  was  entering  the  port." 

"  I  know  it,  Monsieur ;  a  young  man  who  still  adheres 
to  my  fallen  fortunes  passes  a  part  of  his  time  in  a  cupola 
at  the  top  of  the  house,  in  hopes  of  being  the  first  to 
announce  good  news  to  me.  He  has  informed  me  of  the 
entrance  of  this  ship." 

"  And  it  is  not  yours  1 " 

"No,  it  is  a  vessel  of  Bordeaux,  *La  Gironde;'  it 
comes  from  India  also,  but  it  is  not  mine." 

"Perhaps  it  has  spoken  the  *Pharaon,'  and  brings  you 
some  tidings  of  it." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  plainly  one  thing.  Monsieur  1  I 
dread  almost  as  much  to  receive  any  tidings  of  my  vessel 
as  to  remain  in  doubt.  Incertitude  is  still  hope."  Then 
in  a  low  voice  Morrel  added,  "  This  delay  is  not  natural. 
The  *  Pharaon '  left  Calcutta  on  the  5th  of  February ;  it 
ought  to  have  been  here  a  month  ago." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  the  Englishman.  "What  is 
the  meaning  of  this  noise  1 " 

"Oh,  oh  !"  cried  Morrel,  turning  pale,  "what  is  thisi" 
A  loud  noise  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  of  people  moving 
hastily,  and  half-stifled  sobs.  Morrel  rose  and  advanced 
to  the  door  ;  but  his  strength  failed  him  and  he  sank  into 
a  chair.  The  two  men  remained  opposite  one  another,  — 
Morrel  trembling  in  every  limb,  the  stranger  gazing  at  him 
with  an  air  of  profound  pity.  The  noise  had  ceased  ;  but 
it   seemed  that   Morrel  expected  something :   something 


3G8  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

had  occasioned  the  noise,  and  something  must  follow. 
The  stranger  fancied  he  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs, 
and  that  the  steps,  which  were  those  of  several  persons, 
stopped  at  the  door.  A  key  was  inserted  in  the  lock  of 
the  first  door,  and  the  creaking  of  hinges  was  audible. 

"  There  are  only  two  persons  who  have  the  key  of  the 
door,"  murmured  Morrel,  —  "  Codes  and  Julie."  At  this 
instant  the  second  door  opened,  and  the  young  girl,  her 
eyes  bathed  with  tears,  appeared.  Morrel  rose  trem- 
blingly, supporting  himself  by  the  arm  of  the  chair.  He 
would  have  spoken ;  but  his  voice  failed  him.  "  Oh, 
Father !  "  said  she,  clasping  her  hands,  "  forgive  your 
child  for  being  the  messenger  of  ill." 

Morrel  again  changed  color.  Julie  threw  herself  into 
his  arms. 

"  Oh,  Father,  Father  !  "  murmured  she,  "  courage  !  " 

"  The  *  Pharaon  *  has  then  perished  1  "  said  Morrel,  in  a 
hoarse  voice.  The  young  girl  did  not  speak  ;  but  she 
made  an  affirmative  sign  with  her  head  as  she  lay  on  her 
father's  breast. 

"  And  the  crew  1 "  asked  Morrel. 

"  Saved,"  said  the  girl ;  "  saved  by  the  crew  of  the 
vessel  that  has  just  entered  the  harbor." 

Morrel  raised  his  two  hands  to  heaven  with  an  expres- 
sion of  resignation  and  sublime  gratitude.  "  Thanks,  my 
God,"  said- he  ;  "  at  least  thou  strikest  but  me  alone  ! " 

Notwithstanding  his  habitual  irapassiveness,  a  tear 
moistened  the  eye  of  the  Englishman. 

"  Come  in,  come  in  !  "  said  Morrel ;  "  for  I  presume 
you  are  all  at  the  door." 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  those  words  when  Madame 
Morrel  entered,  weeping  bitterly ;  Emmanuel  followed 
her,  and  in  the  ante-chamber  were  visible  the  rough  faces 
of  seven  or  eight  half-naked  sailors.     At  the  sight  of  these 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON.  369 

men  the  Englishman  started  and  advanced  a  step,  then 
restrained  himself  and  retired  into  the  farthest  and  most 
obscure  corner  of  the  room.  jNIadame  Morrel  sat  down  by 
her  husband  and  took  one  of  his  hands  in  hers;  Julie 
still  lay  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder ;  Emmanuel  stood 
in  the  centre  of  the  chamber  and  seemed  to  serve  as  a 
link  between  Morrel's  family  and  the  sailors  at  the  door. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ]  "  said  Morrel. 

"  Draw  nearer,  Penelon,"  said  the  young  man,  "  and 
relate  all." 

An  old  seaman  bronzed  "by  the  tropical  sun  advanced, 
twirling  the  remains  of  a  hat  between  his  hands.  "  Good- 
day,  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  as  if  he  had  quitted  Marseilles 
the  previous  evening,  and  had  just  returned  from  Aix 
or  Toulon. 

"  Good-day,  Penelon  ! "  returned  Morrel,  who  could  not 
refrain  from  smiling  through  his  tears ;  "  where  is  the 
captain  1 " 

"  The  captain,  M.  Morrel,  —  he  has  stayed  behind  sick 
at  Palma ;  but  please  God,  it  won't  be  much,  and  you  will 
see  him  in  a  few  days  all  alive  and  hearty." 

"  Well,  now  tell  your  story,  Penelon." 

Penelon  rolled  his  quid  in  his  cheek,  placed  his  hand 
before  his  mouth,  turned  his  head,  sent  a  long  jet  of 
tobacco-juice  into  the  ante-chamber,  advanced  his  foot, 
and  began  :  "  You  see,  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  "  we  were 
somewhere  between  Cape  Blanc  and  Cape  Bogador,  sail- 
ing with  a  fair  breeze  south-southwest  after  a  week's  calm, 
when  Captain  Gaumard  comes  up  to  me,  —  I  was  at  the 
helm  I  should  tell  you,  —  and  says,  'Penelon,  what  do 
you  think  of  those  clouds  that  are  rising  there  1 '  I  was 
just  then  looking  at  them  myself.  '  What  do  I  think. 
Captain]  why,  I  think  that  they  are  rising  faster  than 
they  have  any  business  to,  and  that  they  would  not  be  so 

VOL.  I.  —  24 


370  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

black  if  they  did  not  mean  mischief.'  *  That 's  my  opinion, 
too,'  said  the  captain,  '  and  I  '11  take  precautious  accord- 
ingly. We  are  carrying  too  much  canvas.  Holloa  !  all 
hands  to  slacken  sail  and  lower  the  flying  jib  !'  It  was 
time  ;  the  squall  was  on  us,  and  the  vessel  began  to  heel. 
'  Ah,'  said  the  captain,  *  we  have  still  too  much  canvas 
set ;  all  hands  to  lower  the  mainsail ! '  Five  minutes  after, 
it  was  down ;  and  we  sailed  under  mizzen- topsails  and  top- 
gallant-sails. *  Well,  Penelon,'  said  the  captain,  '  what 
makes  you  shake  your  head  ] '  '  Why,'  I  says,  '  I  don't 
think  that  we  shall  stop  here.*  *I  think  you  are  right,' 
answered  he ;  '  we  shall  have  a  gale.'  *  A  gale  !  more  than 
that ;  we  shall  have  a  tempest,  or  I  know  nothing  about 
it.'  You  could  see  the  wind  coming  like  the  dust  at 
Montredon ;  luckily  the  captain  understood  his  business. 
*  All  hands  take  in  two  reefs  in  the  topsails  ! '  cried  the 
captain ;  '  let  go  the  bowlines,  brace  to,  lower  the  topgal- 
lant-sails, haul  out  the  reef-tackles  on  the  yards  !  *  " 

"  That  was  not  enough  for  those  latitudes,"  said  the 
Englishman ;  "  I  should  have  taken  four  reefs  in  the  top- 
sails and  lowered  the  mizzen." 

His  firm,  sonorous,  and  unexpected  voice  made  every 
one  start.  Penelon  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  then 
stared  at  the  man  who  thus  criticised  the  manoeuvres  of 
his  captain.  "  We  did  better  than  that,  sir,"  said  the  old 
sailor,  with  a  certain  show  of  respect ;  "we  put  the  helm 
to  the  wind  to  run  before  the  tempest.  Ten  minutes  after, 
we  struck  our  topsails  and  scudded  under  bare  poles." 

"The  vessel  was  very  old  to  risk  that,"  said  the 
Englishman. 

"  Eh,  it  was  that  that  wrecked  us ;  after  having  been 
tossed  about  for  twelve  hours  we  sprang  a  leak.  '  Pene- 
lon,' said  the  captain,  *  I  think  we  are  sinking ;  give  me 
the  helm  and  go  down  into  the  hold.'     I  gave  him  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON.      371 

helm  and  descended ;  there  was  already  three  feet  of 
water.  I  cried,  'AH  hands  to  the  pumps  ! '  but  it  was  too 
late,  and  it  seemed  the  more  we  pumped  the  more  came 
in,  *  Ah,'  said  I,  after  four  hours'  work,  'since  we  are 
sinking,  let  us  sink  ;  we  can  die  but  once.'  *  Is  that  the 
example  you  set,  Penelon  1 '  cries  the  captain ;  *  very  well, 
wait  a  minute.'  He  went  into  his  cabin  and  came  back 
with  a  brace  of  pistols.  *  I  will  blow  the  brains  out  of 
the  first  man  who  leaves  the  pump,'  said  he." 

"  "Well  done  !  "  said  the  Englishman. 

"  There 's  nothing  gives  you  so  much  courage  as  good 
reasons,"  continued  the  sailor.  "  During  that  time  the  wind 
had  abated,  and  the  sea  had  gone  doAvn ;  but  the  water 
kept  rising,  —  not  much,  only  two  inches  an  hour,  but 
still  it  rose.  Two  inches  an  hour  does  not  seem  much,  but 
in  twelve  hours  that  makes  two  feet ;  and  two  feet  with 
the  three  we  had  before  make  five.  *  Come,'  said  the  captain, 
'  we  have  done  all  in  our  power,  and  M.  Morrel  will  have 
nothing  to  reproach  us  with  ;  we  have  tried  to  save  the  ship, 
let  us  now  save  ourselves.  To  the  boats,  my  lads,  as  quick 
as  you  can  ! '  Now,"  continued  Penelon,  "  you  see,  M,  Mor- 
rel, a  sailor  is  attached  to  his  ship,  but  still  more  to  his 
life  ;  so  we  did  not  wait  to  be  told  twice.  The^more.so  that 
the  ship  was  sinking  under  us,  and  seemed  to  say,  'Get 
along  ;  save  yourselves  ! '  We  soon  launched  the  boat,  and 
all  eight  of  us  got  into  it.  The  captain  descended  the 
last,  or  rather  he  did  not  descend,  he  would  not  leave  the 
vessel ;  so  I  took  him  round  the  waist  and  threw  him 
into  the  boat,  and  then  I  jumped  after  him.  It  was  time, 
for  just  as  I  jumped,  the  deck  burst  with  a  noise  like  the 
broadside  of  a  man-of-war.  Ten  minutes  after  she  pitched 
forward,  then  the  other  way,  spun  round  and  round,  and 
then  good-by  to  the  '  Pharaon.'  As  for  us,  we  were 
three  days  without  anything  to  eat  or  drink,  so  that  we 


372  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

began  to  think  of  drawing  lots  who  should  feed  the  rest, 
when  we  saw  '  La  Gironde ; '  we  made  signals  of  distress, 
she  perceived  us,  made  for  us,  and  took  us  all  on  hoard. 
There  now,  M.  Morrel,  that 's  the  whole  truth,  on  the 
honor  of  a  sailor  ;  is  not  it  true,  you  fellows  there  1 " 

A  general  murmur  of  approbation  showed  that  the 
narrator  had  faithfully  detailed  their  misfortunes  and 
sufferings. 

"Well,  well,"  said  M.  Morrel,  "I  know  there  was  no 
one  in  fault  but  destiny.  It  was  the  will  of  God  that  this 
should  happeo ;  blessed  be  his  name  !  What  wages  are 
due  to  you  1 " 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  talk  of  that,  M.  Morrel." 

**  On  the  contrary,  let  us  speak  of  it." 

"Well,  then,  for  three  months,"  said  Penelon. 

"  Coclfes  !  pay  two  hundred  livres  to  each  of  these  good 
fellows,"  said  Morrel.  "At  another  time,"  added  he, 
"  I  should  have  said,  Give  them,  besides,  two  hundred 
livres  over  as  a  present ;  but  times  are  changed,  and  the 
little  money  that  remains  to  me  is  not  my  own." 

Penelon  turned  to  his  companions,  and  exchanged  a 
few  words  with  them. 

"  As  for  that,  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  again  turning  his 
quid,  —  "  as  for  that  —  " 

"  As  for  what  % " 

"  The  money." 

"  Well  1 » 

"  Well,  we  all  say  that  fifty  livres  will  be  enough  for  us 
at  present,  and  that  we  will  wait  for  the  rest." 

"  Thanks,  my  friends,  thanks  !  "  cried  Morrel,  touched 
to  the  heart.  "  Take  it,  take  it !  and  if  you  can  find 
another  employer,  enter  his  service.  You  are  free  to 
do  so." 

These  last  words  produced  a  prodigious  effect  on  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON.  373 

seamen  ;  Penelon  nearly  swallowed  his  quid  ;  fortu- 
nately he  recovered.  "  What !  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  in 
a  low  voice,  "you  send  us  away?  you  are  then  angry 
with  us !  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  M.  Morrel,  "  I  am  not  angry.  I  do  not 
send  you  away ;  but  I  have  no  more  ships,  and  therefore  I 
do  not  want  any  sailors." 

"  No  more  ships  ! "  returned  Penelon ;  "  well,  then, 
you'll  build  some.     We'll  wait  for  you." 

"  I  have  no  money  to  build  ships  with,  Penelon,"  said 
the  owner,  with  a  sad  smile,  "  so  that  I  cannot  accept  your 
kind  offer." 

**  No  more  money !  then  you  must  not  pay  us.  We  can 
go,  like  the  '  Pharaon,'  under  bare  poles." 

"  Enough !  enough,  my  friends  !  "  cried  Morrel,  almost 
overpowered.  "  Leave  me,  I  pray  you ;  we  shall  meet 
again  in  a  happier  time.  Emmanuel,  accompany  them, 
and  see  that  my  orders  are  executed." 

"At  least,  we  shall  see  each  other  again,  M.  Morrel  1" 
asked  Penelon. 

"  Yes,  my  friends ;  I  hope  so,  at  least.  Now  go."  He 
made  a  sign  to  Codes,  who  marched  first;  the  seamen 
followed  him,  and  Emmanuel  brought  up  the  rear.  "Now," 
said  the  owner  to  his  wife  and  daughter,  "  leave  me  ;  I 
wish  to  speak  to  this  gentleman."  And  he  glanced  towards 
the  clerk  of  Thomson  and  French,  who  had  remained 
motionless  in  the  corner  during  this  scene,  in  which  he 
had  taken  no  part  except  the  few  words  we  have  men- 
tioned. The  two  women  looked  at  this  person,  whose 
presence  they  had  entirely  forgotten,  and  retired ;  but  as 
she  left  the  room,  Julie  gave  the  stranger  a  supplicating 
glance,  to  which  he  replied  by  a  smile  that  an  indifferent 
spectator  would  have  been  surprised  to  see  on  his  stern 
features.     The  two  men  were   left  alone.     "Well,  sir," 


374  THE  COUNT  or  MONTE  CRISTO. 

said  Morrel,  sinking  into  a  chair,  "  you  have  heard  all ; 
and  I  have  nothing  further  to  tell  you." 

"  I  see,"  returned  the  Englishman,  "that  a  new  and  un- 
merited misfortune  has  overwhelmed  you ;  and  this  only 
increases  my  desire  to  serve  you." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  1 "  cried  Morrel. 

"  Let  me  see,"  continued  the  stranger,  "  I  am  one  of 
your  largest  creditors,  am  I  not  1  " 

*'  Your  bills,  at  least,  are  the  first  that  will  faU  due." 

*'  Do  you  wish  for  time  to  pay  ] " 

"  A  delay  would  save  my  honor,  and  consequently  my 
life." 

"  How  long  a  delay  do  you  wish  for  ? " 

Morrel  reflected.     "  Two  months,"  said  he. 

"  I  will  give  you  three,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"  But,"  asked  Morrel,  "  will  the  house  of  Thomson  and 
Erench  consent  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  take  everything  on  myself.  To-day  is  the  5th 
of  June." 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  renew  these  bills  up  to  the  5th  of  September ; 
and  on  the  5th  of  September,  at  eleven  o'clock  [the  hand 
of  the  clock  pointed  to  eleven],  I  shall  come  to  receive  the 
money." 

"I  shall  expect  you,"  returned  Morrel;  "and  I  will 
pay  you  —  or  I  shall  be  dead."  These  last  words  were 
uttered  in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  stranger  could  not  hear 
them.  The  bills  were  renewed,  the  old  ones  destroyed  ; 
and  the  poor  ship-owner  found  himself  with  three  months 
before  him  to  collect  his  resources.  The  Englishman  re- 
ceived his  thanks  with  the  calmness  peculiar  to  his  race ; 
and  Morrel,  overwhelming  him  with  grateful  blessings, 
conducted  him  to  the  staircase.  The  stranger  met  Julie  on 
the  stairs;  she  affected  to  be  descending,  but  in  reality 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MORREL  AND  SON.  375 

slie  was  waiting  for  him.  "  Ob,  Monsieur ! "  said  she,  clasp- 
ing her  hands. 

**  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  stranger,  "  one  day  you  will 
receive  a  letter  signed  '  Sinbad  the  Sailor.'  Do  exactly 
what  the  letter  bids  you,  however  strange  it  may  ap- 
pear to  you." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Julie. 

**  Do  you  promise  ]  " 

"  I  swear  to  you  I  will !  " 

"  It  is  well.  Adieu,  Mademoiselle  !  Remain  as  pure 
and  virtuous  as  you  are  at  present,  and  I  have  great  hopes 
that  heaven  will  reward  you  by  giving  you  Emmanuel  for 
a  husband." 

Julie  uttered  a  faint  cry,  blushed  like  a  rose,  and  leaned 
against  the  baluster.  The  stranger  waved  his  hand,  and 
continued  to  descend.  In  the  court  he  found  Penelon, 
who,  with  a  rovlemi  of  a  hundred  livres  in  either  hand, 
seemed  unable  to  make   up  his   mind    to   retain   them. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  friend,"  said  the  Englishman ;  "  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you." 


376  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE   FIFTH   OF   SEPTEMBER. 

The  delay  afforded  by  the  agent  of  the  house  of  Thomson 
and  French,  at  the  moment  when  Morrel  expected  it  least, 
appeared  to  the  poor  ship-owner  one  of  those  returns  of 
good  fortune  which  announce  to  a  man  that  Fate  is  at 
length  weary  of  wasting  her  spite  upon  him.  The  same 
day  he  related  to  his  wife,  to  Emmanuel,  and  his  daughter, 
what  had  occurred  to  him  ;  and  a  ray  of  hope,  if  not  tran- 
quillity, returned  to  the  family.  Unfortunately,  however, 
Morrel  had  engagements  not  alone  with  the  house  of 
Thomson  and  French,  who  had  shown  themselves  so  con- 
siderate towards  him  ;  and  as  he  had  said,  in  business  one 
has  correspondents,  and  not  friends.  When  he  reflected 
deeply,  he  could  by  no  means  account  for  this  generous 
conduct  on  the  part  of  Thomson  and  French  towards  him, 
and  could  only  attribute  it  to  the  selfish  reflection  which 
that  house  might  have  made  :  "  We  had  better  support 
a  man  who  owes  us  nearly  three  hundred  thousand  livres, 
and  have  those  three  hundred  thousand  livres  at  the  end 
of  three  months,  than  hasten  his  ruin,  and  get  but  six  or 
eight  per  cent  of  the  debt."  Unfortunately,  whether  from 
hate  or  blindness,  all  Morrel's  correspondents  did  not  re- 
flect similarly ;  and  some  made  even  a  contrary  reflection. 
The  bills  signed  by  Morrel  were  therefore  presented  at  his 
office  with  scrupulous  exactitude,  and  thanks  to  the  de- 
lay granted  by  the  Englishman,  were  paid  by  Codes  with 
equal  punctuality.     Codes  thus  remained  in  his  accus- 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER,  377 

tomed  tranquillity.  It  was  Morrel  alone  who  remembered 
with  alarm  that  if  he  had  to  repay  on  the  15th  the  fifty 
thousand  livres  of  M.  de  Boville,  and  on  the  30th  the 
32,500  livres  of  bills,  for  which,  as  well  as  the  debt  due 
to  the  inspector  of  prisons,  he  had  time  granted,  he  must 
be  a  ruined  man. 

The  opinion  of  all  the  commercial  men  was  that  under 
the  reverses  which  had  successively  weighed  down  Morrel, 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  stand  secure.  Great  there- 
fore was  the  astonishment  when  they  saw  the  ead  of  the 
month  come,  and  that  he  fulfilled  all  his  engagements  with 
his  usual  punctuality.  Still,  confidence  was  n*^t  restored 
to  all  minds,  and  the  general  voice  postponed  only  until 
the  end  of  the  month  following,  the  complete  ruin  of  the 
unfortunate  ship-owner.  The  month  passed  amid  un^ 
heard-of  efforts  on  the  part  of  Morrel  to  get  in  all  his 
resources.  Formerly  his  paper,  at  any  date,  was  taken 
with  confidence,  and  was  even  in  request.  Morrel  now 
tried  to  negotiate  bills  at  ninety  days  only,  and  found  all 
the  banks  closed.  Fortunately  Morrel  had  some  moneys 
coming  in  on  which  he  could  rely ;  and  as  they  reached 
him,  he  found  himself  in  a  condition  to  meet  his  engage- 
ments when  the  end  of  July  came.  The  agent  of  Thom- 
son and  French  had  not  been  again  seen  at  Marseilles. 
The  day  after,  or  two  days  after,  his  visit  to  Morrel,  he 
had  disappeared ;  and  as  in  that  city  he  had  had  no  inter- 
course but  with  the  mayor,  the  inspector  of  prisons,  and 
M.  Morrel,  his  appearance  left  no  other  trace  than  the 
different  remembrances  of  him  which  these  three  persons 
retained.  As  to  the  sailors  of  the  "  Pharaon,"  it  seemed 
that  they  must  have  found  some  engagement,  for  they 
had  disappeared  also. 

Captain  Gaumard,  recovered  from  his  illness,  had  re- 
turned from  Palmar,     He  hesitated  to  present  himself  at 


378  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

Morrel's,  but  the  owner,  hearing  of  his  arrival,  went  to 
liim.  The  worthy  ship-owner  knew  from  Penelon's  recital 
of  the  captain's  brave  conduct  during  the  storm,  and  tried 
to  console  him.  He  brought  him  also  the  amount  of  his 
wages,  which  Captain  Gaumard  had  not  dared  to  apply 
for.  As  he  descended  the  staircase,  jVIorrel  met  Penelon, 
who  was  going  up.  Penelon  had,  it  would  seem,  made 
good  use  of  his  money,  for  he  was  newly  clad.  When 
he  saw  his  employer,  the  worthy  tar  seemed  much  embar- 
rassed, drew  on  one  side  into  the  corner  of  the  landing, 
place,  passed  his  quid  from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  stared 
stupidly  with  his  great  eyes,  and  only  acknowledged  the 
squeeze  of  the  hand  which  Morrel  as  usual  gave  him  by 
a  slight  pressure  in  return.  Morrel  attributed  Penelon's 
embarrassment  to  the  elegance  of  his  attire ;  it  was  evident 
that  the  good  fellow  had  not  gone  to  such  an  expense  on 
his  own  account.  He  was  no  doubt  engaged  on  board 
some  other  vessel,  and  thus  his  bashfulness  arose  from 
the  fact  of  his  not  having,  if  we  may  so  express  ourselves, 
worn  mourning  for  the  "  Pharaon  "  longer.  Perhaps  he 
had  come  to  tell  Captain  Gaumard  of  his  good  luck,  and 
to  offer  him  employment  from  his  new  master.  "  Worthy 
fellows  !  "  said  Morrel,  as  he  went  away,  "  may  your  new 
master  love  you  as  I  loved  you,  and  be  more  fortunate 
than  I  have  been  !  " 

August  rolled  by  in  unceasing  efforts  on  the  part  of 
Morrel  to  renew  his  credit  or  open  new  accounts.  On  the 
20th  of  August  it  was  known  at  Marseilles  that  he  had 
taken  a  place  in  the  malle-poste,  and  then  it  was  said  that 
it  was  at  the  end  of  the  month  the  docket  was  to  be 
struck  ;  and  Morrel  had  gone  away  that  he  might  not  be 
present  at  this  cruel  act,  but  had  left  his  chief  clerk, 
Emmanuel,  and  his  cashier  Codes  to  meet  it.  But  con- 
trary to  all  expectation,  when  the  31st  of  August  came 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEAfBER.  379 

the  house  opened  as  usual,  and  Codes  appeared  behind 
the  grating  of  the  counter,  examined  all  bills  presented 
with  the  same  scrutiny,  and  from  first  to  last,  paid  all 
with  the  same  precision.  There  came  in,  moreover,  two 
indorsed  notes  which  M.  Morvel  had  discounted,  and  which 
Codes  paid  as  punctually  as  those  bills  on  which  the  ship- 
owner was  directly  liable.  All  this  was  incomprehensible ; 
and  then,  with  the  tenacity  peculiar  to  prophets  of  evil, 
the  failure  was  fixed  to  take  place  at  the  end  of  September. 
On  the  1st,  Morrel  returned ;  he  was  awaited  by  his  family 
with  extreme  anxiety,  for  on  this  journey  to  Paris  they 
had  rested  their  last  hopes.  Morrel  had  thought  of  Dan- 
glars,  who  was  now  immensely  rich,  and  had  been  under 
great  obligations  to  Morrel  in  former  days,  since  to  him 
it  was  owing  that  Danglars  entered  the  service  of  the 
Spanish  banker  Avith  whom  his  immense  fortune  had  its 
beginning.  It  was  said  at  this  moment  that  Danglars 
was  worth  from  six  million  to  eight  million  livres,  and 
had  unlimited  credit.  Danglars  then,  without  taking  a 
crown  from  his  pocket,  could  save  ^lorrel ;  he  had  but  to 
pass  his  word  for  a  loan,  and  Morrel  was  saved.  Morrel 
had  long  thought  of  Danglars  ;  but  there  are  instinctive 
revoltings  impossible  to  control,  and  Mon-el  had  delayed 
as  long  as  possible  before  he  had  recourse  to  this  last 
resource.  And  Morrel  was  right,  for  he  returned  home 
borne  down  by  all  the  humiliation  of  a  refusal.  Yet  on 
his  arrival  Morrel  did  not  utter  a  complaint,  nor  say  one 
harsh  word  ;  he  embraced  his  weeping  wife  and  daughter, 
pressed  Emmanuel's  hand  with  friendly  warmth,  and  then 
going  to  his  private  room  on  the  second  floor,  had  sent 
for  Codes. 

"  Then,"  said  the  two  women  to  Emmanuel,  "  we  are 
indeed  ruined." 

It  was  agreed  in  a  brief  council  held  among  them  that 


380  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Julie  should  write  to  her  brother,  who  was  in  garrison  at 
Nismes,  to  come  to  them  as  speedily  as  possible.  The  poor 
women  felt  instinctively  that  they  would  need  aU  their 
strength  to  support  the  blow  that  impended.  Besides, 
Maximilian  Morrel,  though  hardly  two  and  twenty,  had 
great  influence  over  his  father.  He  was  a  strong-minded, 
upright  young  man.  At  the  time  when  he  decided  on 
his  profession  his  father  had  no  desire  to  choose  for  him, 
but  had  consulted  young  Maximilian's  taste.  He  had  at 
once  declared  for  a  military  life ;  he  had  afterwards  studied 
hard,  passed  brilliantly  through  the  Ecole  Polytechnique, 
and  left  it  as  sub-lieutenant  of  the  Fifty-third  of  the  line. 
For  a  year  he  had  held  this  rank,  and  expected  promotion 
on  the  first  vacancy.  In  his  regiment  Maximilian  Morrel 
was  noted  as  a  most  rigid  observer,  not  only  of  the  obli- 
gations imposed  on  a  soldier,  but  also  of  the  duties  of  a 
man ;  and  he  thus  gained  the  name  of  "  the  Stoic."  We 
need  hardly  say  that  many  of  those  who  gave  him  this 
epithet  repeated  it  because  they  had  heard  it,  and  did  not 
even  know  what  it  meant. 

This  was  the  young  man  whom  his  mother  and  sister 
called  to  their  aid  to  sustain  them  under  the  grave  circum- 
stances which  they  felt  they  would  soon  have  to  endure. 
They  had  not  mistaken  the  gravity  of  this  event,  for  the 
moment  after  Morrel  had  entered  his  office  with  Codes, 
Julie  saw  the  latter  leave  it,  pale,  trembling,  and  his  fea- 
tures betraying  the  utmost  consternation.  She  would 
have  questioned  him  as  he  passed  by  her,  but  the  worthy 
creature  hastened  down  the  staircase  with  unusual  precipi- 
tation, and  only  raised  his  hands  to  heaven  and  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  Mademoiselle,  Mademoiselle  !  what  a  dreadful  mis- 
fortune !  Who  could  ever  have  believed  it ! "  A  moment 
afterwards  Julie  saw  him  go  upstairs  carrying  two  or  three 
heavy  ledgers,  a  pocket-book,  and  a  bag  of  money. 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  381 

Morrel  examined  the  ledgers,  opened  the  pocket-hook, 
and  counted  the  money.  All  his  funds  amounted  to  six 
thousand  or  eight  thousand  livres,  his  expectancies  up  to 
the  5th  to  four  thousand  or  five  thousand,  which,  making 
the  best  of  everything,  gave  him  fourteen  thousand  livres 
to  meet  bills  amounting  to  287,500  livres.  He  could  not 
make  such  a  proposal.  However,  when  Morrel  went 
down  to  his  dinner,  he  appeared  very  composed.  This 
calmness  was  more  alarming  to  the  two  women  than  the 
deepest  dejection  would  have  been.  After  dinner  Morrel 
usually  went  out,  and  used  to  take  his  coffee  at  the  club 
of  the  Phoceens,  and  read  the  "  Semaphore ; "  but  this 
day  he  did  not  leave  the  house,  he  returned  to  his  ofiice. 

As  to  Codes,  he  seemed  completely  bewildered.  For 
part  of  the  day  he  went  into  the  courtyard,  seated  himself 
on  a  stone  with  his  head  bare,  and  exposed  to  a  sun  of 
thirty  degrees.  Emmanuel  tried  to  comfort  the  women ; 
but  his  eloquence  faltered.  The  young  man  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  business  of  the  house  not  to  feel  that 
a  great  catastrophe  hung  over  the  Morrel  family.  Night 
came.  The  two  women  had  watched,  hoping  that  when  he 
left  his  room  Morrel  would  come  to  them ;  but  they  heard 
him  pass  before  their  door,  trying  to  conceal  the  noise  of 
his  footsteps.  They  listened  ;  he  went  into  his  sleeping- 
room  and  fastened  the  door  inside.  Madame  Morrel 
sent  her  daughter  to  bed ;  and  half  an  hour  after  Julie 
had  retired  she  rose,  took  off  her  shoes,  and  went  stealthily 
along  the  passage  to  see  through  the  keyhole  what  her 
husband  was  doing.  In  the  passage  she  saw  a  retreating 
shadow ;  it  was  Julie,  who,  uneasy  herself,  had  anticipated 
her  mother.  The  young  lady  went  towards  Madame 
Morrel.  "  He  is  writing,"  she  said.  They  had  under- 
stood each  other  without  speaking.  Madame  Morrel 
looked  again  through  the  keyhole.     Morrel  was  writing; 


382  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

but  Madame  Morrel  remarked  what  her  daughter  had  not 
observed,  that  her  husband  was  writing  on  stamped  paper. 
The  terrible  idea  that  he  was  writing  his  will  flashed  across 
her ;  she  shuddered,  and  yet  had  not  strength  to  utter 
a  word.  Next  day  M.  Morrel  seemed  as  calm  as  ever, 
went  into  his  office  as  usual,  and  came  to  his  breakfast 
punctually;  but  after  dinner  he  placed  his  daughter  beside 
him,  took  her  head  in  his  arms,  and  held  her  for  a  long 
time  against  his  bosom.  In  the  evening  Julie  told  her 
mother  that  although  he  was  so  calm  in  appearance,  she 
had  remarked  that  her  father's  heart  beat  violently.  The 
next  two  days  passed  in  the  same  manner.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  4th  of  September,  M.  Morrel  asked  his  daughter 
for  the  key  of  his  office.  Julie  trembled  at  this  request, 
which  seemed  to  her  of  bad  omen.  "Why  did  her  father 
ask  for  this  key  which  she  always  kept,  and  which  was 
only  taken  from  her  in  childhood  as  a  punishment  1  The 
young  girl  looked  at  Morrel.  "  What  have  I  done  wrong, 
Father,"  she  said,  "  that  you  should  take  tliis  key  from  me  1 " 

"  Nothing,  my  dear,"  replied  the  unhappy  man,  the 
tears  starting  to  his  eyes  at  this  simple  question ;  "  noth- 
ing, only  I  want  it." 

Julie  made  a  pretence  to  feel  for  the  key.  "  I  must 
have  left  it  in  my  room,"  she  said.  And  she  went  out ; 
but  instead  of  going  to  her  apartment  she  hastened  to 
consult  Emmanuel.  "Do  not  give  this  key  to  your 
father,"  said  he ;  "  and  to-morrow  morning,  if  possible,  do 
not  quit  him  for  a  moment."  She  questioned  Emmanuel, 
but  he  knew  nothing,'or  would  not  say  anything.  During 
the  night  between  the  4th  and  5th  of  September  Madame 
Morrel  remained  listening  for  every  sound,  and  until 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  she  heard  her  husband  pac- 
ing the  room  in  great  agitation.  It  was  three  o'clock 
when  he  threw  himself  on  the  bed.     The  mother  and 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  383 

daughter  passed  the  night  together.  They  had  expected 
Maximilian  since  the  previous  evening.  At  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning  Morrel  entered  their  chamber.  He  was 
calm ;  but  the  agitation  of  the  night  was  legible  in  his 
pale  and  careworn  visage.  They  did  not  dare  to  ask  him 
how  he  had  slept.  Morrel  was  kinder  to  his  wife,  more 
affectionate  to  his  daughter,  than  he  had  ever  been.  He 
could  not  cease  gazing  at  and  kissing  the  sweet  girl. 
Julie,  mindful  of  Emmanuel's  request,  was  following  her 
father  when  he  quitted  the  room,  but  he  said  to  her 
quickly,  "  Remain  with  your  mother."  Julie  wished  to 
accompany  him.     "  I  wish  it,"  he  said. 

This  was  the  first  time  Morrel  had  said  to  his  daughter, 
"I  wish  it ;"  but  he  said  it  in  a  tone  of  paternal  kindness, 
and  Julie  did  not  dare  refuse  compliance.  She  remained 
on  the  same  spot,  standing  mute  and  motionless.  An 
instant  afterward  the  door  opened,  she  felt  two  arms  en- 
circle her,  and  lips  were  pressed  upon  her  forehead.  She 
looked  up  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy.  "  Maximil- 
ian !  my  brother !  "  she  cried.  At  these  words  Madame 
Morrel  rose  and  threw  herself  into  her  son's  arms. 

"Mother,"  said  the  young  man,  looking  alternately  at 
Madame  Morrel  and  her  daughter,  "what  has  happened? 
Your  letter  has  frightened  me,  and  I  have  come  hither 
with  all  speed." 

"Julie,"  said  Madame  Morrel,  making  a  sign  to  the 
young  man,  "go  and  tell  your  father  that  Maximilian 
has  just  arrived."  The  young  lady  rushed  out  of  the 
apartment,  but  on  the  first  step  of  the  staircase  she  found 
a  man  holding  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  Are  you  not  Mademoiselle  Julie  Morrel  ? "  inquired 
the  man,  with  a  strong  Italian  accent. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Julie,  with  hesitation  ;  "  what  is 
your  pleasure]     I  do  not  know  you." 


384  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Read  this  letter,"  he  said,  handing  it  to  her.  Julie 
hesitated.  "  It  concerns  the  best  interests  of  your  father," 
said  the  messenger. 

The  young  girl  hastily  took  the  letter  from  him.  She 
opened  it  quickly  and  read  :  — 

Go  this  moment  to  the  Allees  de  Meillan ;  enter  the  house 
No.  15;  ask  the  porter  for  the  key  of  the  room  on  the  fifth 
floor;  enter  the  apartment,  take  from  the  corner  of  the  mantel- 
piece a  purse  netted  in  red  silk,  and  give  it  to  your  father.  It 
is  important  that  he  should  receive  it  before  eleven  o'clock. 
You  promised  to  obey  me  implicitly.  Remember  your 
promise.  „  ^ 

^  SiNBAD   THE   SaILOR. 

The  young  girl  uttered  a  joyful  cry,  raised  her  eyes, 
looked  round  to  question  the  messenger,  but  he  had  dis- 
appeared. She  cast  her  eyes  again  over  the  note  to 
peruse  it  a  second  time,  and  saw  there  was  a  postscript. 
She  read  :  — 

It  is  important  that  you  should  fulfil  this  mission  in  person 
and  alone.  If  you  go  accompanied  by  any  other  person,  or 
should  any  one  else  present  himself,  the  porter  will  reply  that 
he  does  not  know  anything  about  it- 

This  postscript  was  a  great  check  to  the  young  girl's 
joy.  Was  there  nothing  to  fear;  was  there  not  some 
snare  laid  for  her  1  Her  innocence  had  kept  her  in  igno- 
rance of  the  dangers  that  might  assail  a  young  girl  of  her 
age.  But  there  is  no  need  to  know  danger  in  order  to 
fear  it ;  indeed,  it  may  be  observed  that  it  is  usually  un- 
known perils  that  inspire  the  greatest  terror. 

Julie  hesitated,  and  resolved  to  take  counsel.  Yet,  by 
a  singular  feeling,  it  was  neither  to  her  mother  nor  her 
brother  that  she  applied,  but  to  Emmanuel.  She  has- 
tened down  and  told  him  what  had  occurred  on  the  day 
when  the  agent  of  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French  had 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  385 

come  to  lier  flitlaer's,  related  the  scene  on  the  staircase, 
repeated  the  promise  she  had  made,  and  showed  him 
the  letter. 

"  You  must  go,  then,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Emmanuel. 
*'  Go  there  1 ''  murmured  Julie. 
"  Yes ;  I  will  accompany  you." 

*•  But  did  you  not  read  that  I  must  be  alone  1 "  said  Julie. 
"  And  you  shall  be  alone,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  I 
will  await  you  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du  Musee ;  and  if 
you  are  so  long  absent  as  to  make  me  uneasy,  I  will  hasten 
to  rejoin  you,  and  woe  to  him  of  whom  you  shall  have 
cause  to  complain  to  me !  " 

"  Then,  Emmanuel,"'  said  the  young  girl,  with  hesitation, 
"  it  is  your  opinion  that  I  should  obey  this  injunction." 

"  Yes ;  did  not  the  messenger  say  that  it  concerns  your 
father's  safety?" 

"But  what  danger  threatens  him,  then,  Emmanuel?" 
she  asked. 

Emmanuel  hesitated  a  moment ;  but  his  desire  to  make 
Julie  decide  immediately  urged  him  on. 

"  Listen,"  he  said ;   "  to-day  is  the  5th  of  September, 
is  it  notr' 
"  Yes." 

*'  To-day,  then,  at  eleven  o'clock,  your  father  has  nearly 
three  hundred  thousand  livres  to  pay." 
"Yes,  we  know  that," 

"Well,"  continued  Emmanuel,  "we  have  not  fifteen 
thousand  livres  in  the  house." 
"What  will  happen  then?" 

"  Why,  if  to-day  before  eleven  o'clock  your  father  has 

not  found  some  one  who  will  come  to  his  aid,  he  will  be 

compelled  at  twelve  o'clock  to  declare  himself  a  bankrupt." 

"  Oh,  come,  come  !  "  cried  she,  hastening  away  with  the 

young  man. 

VOL.   I.  —  25 


386  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

During  this  time,  Madame  Morrel  had  told  her  son 
everything.  The  young  man  knew  quite  well  that  after 
the  succession  of  misfortunes  which  had  befallen  his 
father,  great  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  style  of 
living  and  housekeeping;  but  he  did  not  know  that 
matters  had  reached  such  a  point.  He  was  thunder- 
struck. Then,  rushing  hastily  out  of  the  apartment,  he 
ran  up  the  stairs,  expecting  to  find  his  father  in  his  of- 
fice, but  he  rapped  there  in  vain.  While  he  was  yet  at 
the  door  of  the  office  he  heard  the  bedroom  door  open, 
turned,  and  saw  his  father.  Instead  of  going  direct  to 
his  office,  M.  Morrel  had  returned  to  his  bed-chamber, 
which  he  was  only  this  moment  quitting.  Morrel  uttered 
a  cry  of  surprise  at  the  sight  of  his  son,  of  whose  arrival 
he  was  ignorant.  He  remained  motionless  on  the  spot, 
pressing  with  his  left  hand  something  he  had  concealed 
under  his  coat.  Maximilian  sprang  down  the  staircase 
and  threw  his  arms  round  his  father's  neck ;  but  sud- 
denly he  recoiled  and  placed  his  right  hand  on  Morrel's 
breast.  "  Father  !  "  he  exclaimed,  turning  pale  as  death, 
"  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  brace  of  pistols  under 
your  coat  1 " 

"  Oh,  this  is  what  I  feared ! "  said  Morrel. 

"Father,  Father!  in  Heaven's  name,"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,   "  what  are  these  weapons  for  1 " 

"Maximilian,"  replied  Morrel,  looking  fixedly  at  his 
son,  "you  are  a  man,  and  a  man  of  honor.  Come,  and 
I  Avill  explain  to  you." 

And  with  a  firm  step  IMorrel  went  up  to  his  office, 
while  Maximilian  followed  him,  trembling  as  he  went. 
Morrel  opened  the  door,  and  closed  it  behind  his  son, 
then,  crossing  the  ante-room,  went  to  his  desk,  on  which 
he  placed  the  pistols,  and  pointed  with  his  finger  to  an 
open  ledger.      In  this  ledger   was   made   out   an   exact 


THE  FIFTH   OF  SEPTEMBER.  387 

balance-sheet  of  affairs.  Morrel  had  to  pay,  within  half 
an  hour,  287,500  livres.  All  he  possessed  was  15,257 
livres.     "  Read  ! "  said  Morrel, 

The  young  man  was  overwhelmed  as  he  read.  Morrel 
said  not  a  word.  "What  could  he  say'?  What  need  he 
add  to  such  a  desperate  proof  in  figures'? 

"And  have  you  done  all  that  is  possible,  Father,  to 
meet  this  disastrous  result  1 "  asked  the  young  man,  after 
a  moment's  pause. 

"I  have,"  replied  Morrel. 

"  You  have  no  money  coming  in  on  which  you  can  rely  1" 

"None." 

"  You  have  exhausted  every  resource  ? " 

"All." 

**And  in  half  an  hour,"  said  Maximilian,  in  a  gloomy 
voice,  "  our  name  is  dishonored  ! " 

"  Blood  washes  out  dishonor,"  said  Morrel. 

"You  are  right.  Father;  I  understand  you."  Then 
extending  his  hand  towards  one  of  the  pistols,  he  said, 
"  There  is  one  for  you  and  one  for  me ;   thanks  ! " 

Morrel  checked  his  hand.  "  Your  mother  !  your  sister  ! 
"Who  will  support  them  1 " 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  young  man's  frame. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "do  you  reflect  that  you  are  bid- 
ding me  to  live  1 " 

"  Yes,  I  do  bid  you,"  answered  Morrel ;  "  it  is  your  duty. 
You  have  a  calm,  strong  mind,  Maximilian.  Maximilian, 
you  are  no  ordinary  man.  I  desire  nothing ;  I  command 
nothing ;  I  only  say  to  you,  examine  my  position  as  if  it 
were  your  own,  and  then  judge  for  yourself," 

The  young  man  reflected  an  instant ;  then  an  expression 
of  sublime  resignation  appeared  in  his  eyes,  and  with  a 
slow  and  sad  gesture  he  took  off  his  two  epaulettes,  the 
marks  of  his  rank.     "Be  it  so,  then,  my  father,"  he  said, 


388  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

extending  his  hand  to  Morrel ;  "  die  in  peace,  my  father. 
I  will  live." 

Morrel  was  about  to  cast  himself  on  his  knees  before 
his  son,  but  Maximilian  caught  him  in  his  arms,  and  those 
two  noble  hearts  were  pressed  against  each  other  for  a 
moment.      "You  know  it  is  not  my  fault,"  said  Morrel. 

Maximilian  smiled.  "I  know,  Father,  you  are  the 
most  honorable  man  I  have  ever  known." 

"Good,  my  son.  And  now  all  is  said;  go  now  and 
rejoin  your  mother  and  sister." 

"  My  father,"  said  the  young  man,  bending  his  knee, 
"  bless  me  !  " 

Morrel  took  his  head  between  his  two  hands,  drew  him 
towards  him,  and  kissing  his  forehead  several  times,  said, 
"  Oh,  yes,  yes ;  I  bless  you  in  my  own  name  and  in  the 
name  of  three  generations  of  irreproachable  men,  who  say 
by  my  voice,  *  The  edifice  which  misfortune  has  destroyed. 
Providence  may  build  up  again.'  On  seeing  me  die  such 
a  death  the  most  inexorable  will  have  pity  on  you.  To 
you,  perhaps,  they  will  accord  the  time  they  have  refused 
to  me.  Try  that  the  word  of  disgrace  be  never  pronounced. 
Go  to  work,  labor,  young  man ;  struggle  ardently  and  coura- 
geously ;  live,  yourself,  your  mother  and  sister,  with  the 
most  rigid  economy,  so  that  from  day  to  day  the  property 
of  those  to  whom  I  am  indebted  may  augment  and  fruc- 
tify in  your  hands.  Reflect  how  glorious  a  day  it  will  be, 
how  grand,  how  solemn,  that  day  of  complete  restoration 
on  which  you  will  say  in  this  very  office,  '  My  father  died 
because  he  could  not  do  what  I  have  this  day  done ;  but 
he  died  calmly  and  peaceably,  because  in  dying  he  knew 
what  I  should  do.' " 

"  My  father  !  my  father  !  "  cried  the  young  man,  "  why 
should  you  not  live  V 

"  If  I  live,  aU  would  be  changed ;  if  I  live,  interest 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  389 

■would  be  converted  into  doubt,  pity  into  hostility.  If  I 
live,  I  am  only  a  man  who  has  broken  his  word,  failed 
in  his  engagements,  —  in  fact,  only  a  bankrupt.  If  on  the 
contrary  I  die,  remember,  Maximilian,  my  corpse  is  that 
of  an  honest  but  unfortunate  man.  Living,  my  best  friends 
would  avoid  my  house  ;  dead,  all  Marseilles  will  follow  me 
in  tears  to  my  last  home.  Living,  you  would  feel  shame 
at  my  name  ;  dead,  you  may  raise  your  head  and  say,  '  I 
am  the  son  of  him  who  killed  himself  because  for  the 
first  time  he  has  been  compelled  to  fail  in  his  word.' " 

The  young  man  uttered  a  groan,  but  appeared  resigned. 
For  the  second  time  conviction  entered,  not  his  heart,  but 
his  mind. 

"  And  now,"  said  Morrel,  "  leave  me  alone,  and  en- 
deavor to  keep  your  mother  and  sister  away." 

"  Will  you  not  see  my  sister  once  more  1 "  asked  Max- 
imilian. A  last  dull  hope  was  concealed  by  the  young 
man  in  the  effect  of  this  interview,  and  he  had  suggested 
it  for  that  reason.  Morrel  shook  his  head.  "  I  saw  her 
this  morning,"  he  said,  "  and  bade  her  adieu." 

"  Have  you  no  particular  commands  to  leave  with  me, 
my  father  1 "  inquired  Maximilian,  in  a  faltering  voice. 

"  Yes,  my  son,  and  a  sacred  command." 

"  Say  it,  my  father." 

"The  house  of  Thomson  and  French  is  the  only  one  who 
from  humanity,  or  it  may  be  selfishness,  —  it  is  not  for 
me  to  read  men's  hearts,  —  has  had  any  pity  for  me.  Its 
agent,  who  wiU  in  ten  minutes  present  himself  to  receive 
the  amount  of  a  bill  of  287,500  livres,  I  will  not  say 
granted,  but  offered  me  three  months.  Let  this  house  be 
the  first  repaid,  my  son,  and  let  that  man  be  sacred  to 
you." 

"  Father,  I  will,"  said  Maximilian. 

"  And  now  once  more,  adieu,"  said  Morrel.    "  Go  !  leave 


390  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

me.  I  would  be  alone.  You  will  find  my  will  in  the 
secretary  in  my  bedroom." 

The  young  man  remained  standing  and  motionless,  hav- 
ing only  the  force  to  will  but  not  the  power  to  execute. 

"  Hear  me,  Maximilian,"  said  his  father.  "  Suppose  I 
were  a  soldier  like  you,  and  ordered  to  carry  a  certain  re- 
doubt, and  you  knew  I  must  be  killed  in  the  assault, 
would  you  not  say  to  me,  as  you  said  just  now,  '  Go, 
Father;  for  you  are  dishonored  by  delay,  and  death  is 
preferable  to  shame '  1 " 

"  Yes,  yes  ! "  said  the  young  man,  "  yes  !  "  and  once 
again  embracing  his  father  with  convulsive  pressure,  he 
said,  "Be  it  so,  my  father."  And  he  rushed  out  of  the 
cabinet. 

When  his  son  had  left  him,  Morrel  remained  an  instant 
standing  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  door ;  then  putting 
forth  his  arm,  he  pulled  the  bell.  After  a  moment's 
interval,  Codes  appeared. 

He  was  no  longer  the  same  man  ;  the  fearful  convictions 
of  the  last  three  days  had  crushed  him.  This  thought  — 
the  house  of  Morrel  and  Son  is  about  to  stop  payment  — 
bent  him  to  the  earth  more  than  twenty  years  would 
otherwise  have  done. 

"  My  worthy  Codes,"  said  Morrel,  in  a  tone  impossible 
bo  describe,  "do  you  remain  in  the  ante-chamber.  When 
the  gentleman  who  came  three  months  ago  —  the  agent  of 
the  house  of  Thomson  and  French  —  arrives,  announce 
his  arrival  to  me."  Codes  made  no  reply;  he  made  a 
sign  with  his  head,  went  into  the  anteroom,  and  seated 
himself.  ]\Iorrel  fell  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  clock ;  there  were  seven  minutes  left,  that  was  all. 
The  hand  moved  on  with  incredible  rapidity ;  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  saw  it  move. 

What  then  passed  at  this  final  moment  of  time  in  the 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  391 

mind  of  this  man,  who,  still  young,  by  a  course  of  reason- 
ing, false  perhaps,  but  at  least  specious,  was  about  to  sepa- 
rate himself  from  all  he  loved  in  the  world,  and  quit  life, 
which  possessed  for  him  aU  domestic  delights,  it  is  im- 
possible to  express.  To  form  any  idea  of  his  feelings,  he 
must  have  been  seen  with  his  brow  bathed  in  perspira- 
tion, yet  resigned,  his  eyes  moistened  with  tears  and  yet 
raised  to  heaven.  The  clock-hand  moved  on.  The  pistols 
were  cocked ;  he  stretclied  forth  his  hand,  took  one  up,  and 
murmured  his  daughter's  name.  Then  he  laid  down  the 
mortal  weapon,  took  up  his  pen,  and  wrote  a  few  words.  It 
seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  not  taken  a  sufficient  farewell  of 
his  beloved  daughter.  Then  he  turned  again  to  the  clock  ; 
he  no  longer  counted  by  minutes,  but  by  seconds.  He 
took  up  the  deadly  weapon  again,  his  mouth  half-opened 
and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  clock,  and  then  shuddered  at  the 
click  of  the  trigger  as  he  cocked  the  pistol.  At  this  mo- 
ment a  colder  perspiration  moistened  his  brow ;  a  more 
mortal  agony  clutched  at  his  heart-strings.  He  heard  the 
door  of  the  staircase  creak  on  its  hinges ;  the  clock  gave 
its  warning  to  strike  eleven  ;  the  door  of  his  cabinet 
opened.  Morrel  did  not  turn  round ;  he  expected  these 
words  of  Codes,  "  The  agent  of  Thomson  and  French." 
He  placed  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol  between  his  teeth. 
Suddenly  he  heard  a  cry,  —  it  was  his  daughter's  voice. 
He  turned  and  saw  Julie.  The  pistol  fell  from  his 
hands. 

"  My  father !  "  cried  the  young  girl,  out  of  breath  and 
half  dead  with  joy ;  "  saved  !  you  are  saved  !  "  And 
she  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  holding  in  her  extended 
hand  a  red  netted  silk  purse. 

"  Saved,  my  child !  "  said  Morrel ;  "  what  do  you 
mean  1 " 

"  Yes,  saved  —  saved  !  see,  see  !  "  said  the  young  girL 


392  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Morrel  took  the  purse,  and  started  as  he  did  so,  for  a 
vague  remembrance  reminded  him  that  it  once  belonged 
to  himself.  At  one  end  was  the  bill  for  the  287,500  livres. 
The  bill  was  receipted.  At  the  other  end  was  a  diamond  as 
large  as  a  hazel-nut,  with  these  words  on  a  small  slip  of 
parchment :  "  Julie's  Dowry." 

Morrel  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow ;  it  seemed  to  him 
a  dream.  At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  eleven.  The 
sound  vibrated  through  him  as  if  each  stroke  of  the  ham- 
mer struck  on  his  heart.  "  Explain,  my  child,"  he  said, 
"  explain  !   where  did  you  find  this  purse  1 " 

"  In  a  house  in  the  Allees  de  Meillan,  ISTo.  15,  on  the 
corner  of  a  mantelpiece  in  a  small  room  on  the  fifth  floor." 

"But,"  cried  Morrel,  "this  purse  is  not  yours  !  " 

Julie  handed  to  her  father  the  letter  she  had  received 
in  the  morning. 

"  And  did  you  go  alone  ? "  asked  Morrel,  after  he  had 
read  it. 

"  Emmanuel  accompanied  me,  Father.  He  was  to  have 
waited  for  me  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du  Musee,  but 
strange  to  say,  he  was  not  there  when  I  returned." 

"  M.  Morrel !  "  exclaimed  a  voice  on  the  stairs,  —  "  M. 
Morrel !  ''" 

"  It  is  his  voice  !  "  said  Julie.  At  this  moment  Em- 
manuel entered,  his  countenance  full  of  animation  and 
joy.     "  The  '  Pharaon ' !  "  be  cried  ;  "  the  '  Pharaon ' !  " 

"  "What !  —  what !  the  *  Pharaon  ! '  Are  you  mad, 
Emmanuel  1     You  know  the  vessel  is  lost." 

"  The  '  Pharaon,'  sir  !  they  signal  the  *  Pharaon ' ! 
The  '  Pharaon  '  is  entering  the  harbor  !  " 

Morrel  fell  back  in  his  chair.  His  strength  was  failing 
him  ;  his  understanding  refused  to  comprehend  such 
incredible,  unheard-of,  fabulous  events.  But  his  son 
came  in. 


THE  FIFTH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  393 

"  Father !  "  cried  Maximilian,  "  how  could  you  say  the 
*  Pharaon '  was  lost  t  She  has  been  signalled  from  the 
watch-tower,  and  they  say  she  is  now  coming  into  port." 

"  My  dear  friends  !  "  said  Morrel,  "  if  this  were  so,  it 
must  be  a  miracle  of  Heaven  !    Impossible  !  impossible  !  " 

But  what  was  real  and  not  less  incredible  was  the  purse 
he  held  in  his  hand,  the  acceptance  receipted,  the  splendid 
diamond. 

"Ah,  Monsieur ! "  exclaimed  Codes,  "what  can  it  mean, 
—  the  'Pharaon']" 

"  Come,  my  dear,"  said  Morrel,  rising  from  his  seat, 
"  let  us  go  and  see,  and  Heaven  have  pity  upon  us  if  it 
be  false  intelligence  !  " 

They  all  went  out,  and  on  the  stairs  met  Madame 
Morrel,  who  had  been  afraid  to  go  up  into  the  office.  In 
an  instant  they  were  at  the  Canebiere.  There  was  a 
crowd  on  the  pier.  All  the  crowd  gave  way  before 
Morrel.  "  The  *  Pharaon '  !  the  '  Pharaon ' ! "  said  every 
voice. 

And  wonderful  to  say,  in  front  of  the  tower  of  St.  Jean 
was  a  vessel  bearing  on  her  stern  these  words,  printed  in 
white  letters,  "  The  *  Pharaon,'  Morrel  and  Son,  of  Mar- 
seilles." It  precisely  resembled  the  other  "  Pharaon,"  and 
was  loaded,  as  that  had  been,  with  cochineal  and  indigo.  It 
cast  anchor,  brailed  all  sails,  and  on  the  deck  was  Captain 
Gaumard  giving  orders,  and  Maitre  Penelon  making  signals 
to  M.  Morrel.  To  doubt  any  longer  was  impossible ;  there 
was  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  and  ten  thousand  persons 
who  came  to  corroborate  the  testimony.  As  Morrel  and 
his  son  embraced  on  the  pier-head  in  the  presence  and 
amid  the  applause  of  the  whole  city  witnessing  this  pro- 
digy, a  man  with  his  face  half-covered  by  a  black  beard, 
and  who,  concealed  behind  the  sentry-box,  watched  the 
scene  with  delight,  uttered  these  words  in  a  low  tone. 


394:  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

*'  Be  happy,  noble  heart !  be  blessed  for  all  the  good  thou 
hast  done  and  wilt  do  hereafter,  and  let  my  gratitude  rest 
in  the  shade  with  your  kindness  !  " 

And  with  a  smile  in  which  joy  and  happiness  were 
revealed,  he  left  his  hiding-place,  and  without  being 
observed  descended  one  of  those  flights  of  steps  which 
serve  for  debarkation,  and  hailing  three  times,  shouted 
"  Jacopo  !  Jacupo  !  Jacopo  ! "  Then  a  shallop  came  to 
shore,  took  him  on  board,  and  conveyed  him  to  a  yacht 
splendidly  fitted  up,  on  whose  deck  he  sprang  with  the 
activity  of  a  sailor ;  thence  he  once  again  looked  towards 
Morrel,  who  weeping  with  joy  was  shaking  hands  most 
cordially  with  all  the  crowd  around  him,  and  thanking 
with  a  look  the  unknown  benefactor  whom  he  seemed 
to  be  seeking  in  the  skies. 

*'  And  now,"  said  the  unknown,  "  farewell  kindness, 
humanity,  and  gratitude !  Farewell  to  all  the  feelings 
that  expand  the  heart !  I  have  been  Heaven's  substitute 
to  recompense  the  good  ;  now  the  god  of  vengeance  yields 
to  me  his  power  to  punish  the  wicked  ! "  At  these  words 
he  gave  a  signal,  and  as  if  only  awaiting  this  signal,  the 
yacht  instantly  put  out  to  sea. 


ITALY  :  SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR.  395 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ITALY  :     SINBAD    THE   SAILOR. 

Towards  the  beginning  of  the  year  1838,  two  young  men 
belonging  to  the  first  society  of  Paris,  the  Vicomte  Albert 
de  Morcerf  and  the  Baron  Franz  d'Epinay,  were  at  Flor- 
ence. They  had  agreed  to  see  the  Carnival  at  Rome  that 
year,  and  that  Franz,  who  for  the  last  three  or  four  years 
had  inhabited  Italy,  should  act  as  cicerone  to  Albert.  As 
it  is  no  slight  affair  to  spend  the  Carnival  at  Rome,  es- 
pecially when  you  have  no  great  desire  to  sleep  on  the 
Place  du  Peuple,  or  the  Campo  Vaccino,  they  wrote  to 
Maitre  Pastrini,  the  proprietor  of  the  Hotel  de  Londres, 
Place  d'Espagne,  to  reserve  comfortable  apartments  for 
them.  Maitre  Pastrini  replied  that  he  had  only  two 
rooms  and  a  cabinet  al  secondo  piano,  which  he  offered 
at  the  low  charge  of  a  louis  ^^er  diem.  They  accepted  his 
offer ;  but  wishing  to  make  the  best  use  of  the  time  that 
was  left,  Albert  started  for  Naples.  As  for  Franz,  he 
remained  at  Florence.  After  having  passed  several  days 
here,  when  he  had  walked  in  the  Eden  called  the  Casines, 
when  he  had  passed  two  or  three  evenings  at  the  houses  of 
the  nobles  of  Florence,  he  took  a  fancy  into  his  head  after 
having  already  visited  Corsica,  the  cradle  of  Bonaparte, 
to  visit  Elba,  the  halting-place  of  Napoleon. 

One  evening  he  loosened  a  boat  from  the  iron  ring  that 
secured  it  to  the  port  of  Leghorn,  laid  himself  down, 
wrapped  in  his  cloak,  at  the  bottom,  and  said  to  the  crew, 


396  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

•'  To  the  Isle  of  Elba  ! "  The  boat  shot  out  of  the  harbor 
like  a  bird,  and  the  next  morning  Franz  disembarked  at 
Porto  Ferrajo.  He  traversed  the  island  after  having  fol- 
lowed the  traces  which  the  footsteps  of  the  giant  have 
left,  and  re-embarked  for  Marciana.  Two  hours  after  he 
landed  at  Pianosa,  where  he  was  assured  that  red  par- 
tridges abounded.  The  sport  was  bad  ;  Franz  succeeded 
in  killing  only  a  few  partridges,  and  like  every  unsuccess- 
ful sportsman,  he  returned  to  the  boat  very  much  out  of 
temper. 

"  Ah,  if  your  Excellency  chose,"  said  the  captain,  "  you 
might  have  capital  sport." 

"  Where  1 " 

*'  Do  you  see  that  island  1 "  continued  the  captain, 
pointing  to  a  conical  pile  that  rose  from  the  blue  sea. 

*'  Well ;  what  is  this  island  1  " 

"The  island  of  Monte  Cristo." 

"  But  I  have  no  permission  to  shoot  over  this  island." 

"Your  Excellency  does  not  require  a  permission,  for  the 
island  is  uninhabitecL" 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  said  the  young  man.  "  A  desert  island 
in  the  midst  of  the  Mediterranean  must  be  a  curiosity," 

"  It  is  very  natural ;  this  isle  is  a  mass  of  rocks,  and 
does  not  contain  an  acre  of  land  capable  of  cultivation." 

"  To  whom  does  this  island  belong  ]  " 

"To  Tuscany." 

"  What  game  shall  I  find  there  1 " 

"  Thousands  of  wild  goats." 

"Who  live  by  licking  the  stones,  I  suppose/'  said  Franz, 
with  an  incredulous  smile. 

"  No  ;  but  by  browsing  the  shrubs  and  trees  that  grow 
out  of  the  crevices  of  the  rocks." 

"  Wliere  can  I  sleep  ?  " 

"  On  shore,  in  the  grottos,  or  on  board  in  your  cloak  ; 
besides,  if  your  Excellency  pleases,  we  can  leave  as  soon 


ITALY  :    SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR.  397 

as  the  chase  is  finished.  We  can  sail  as  well  by  night  as 
by  day,  and  if  the  wind  drops  we  can  use  our  oars." 
*  As  Franz  had  sufficient  time  before  rejoining  his  com- 
panion, and  had  no  further  occasion  to  trouble  himself 
about  his  apartment  in  Rome,  he  accepted  the  proposition. 
Upon  his  answer  in  the  afiirmative,  the  sailors  exchanged 
a  few  words  together  in  a  low  tone.  "  Well,"  he  asked  ; 
"  what  1  is  there  any  difficulty  to  be  surmounted  ] " 

"  No,"  replied  the  captain,  "  but  we  must  warn  your 
Excellency  that  the  island  is  contumacious." 

"  What  do  you  mean  1 " 

"  That  Monte  Cristo,  although  uninhabited,  yet  serves 
occasionally  as  a  refuge  for  the  smugglers  and  pirates  who 
come  from  Corsica,  Sardinia,  and  Africa  ;  and  that  if  any- 
thing betrays  that  we  have  been  there,  we  shall  have 
to  perform  quarantine  for  six  days  on  our  return  to 
Leghorn." 

"  The  devil !  that  is  quite  another  thing  !  Six  days  ! 
just  the  time  which  God  required  to  create  the  world. 
It  is  somewhat  lung,  my  children." 

"  But  who  will  say  that  your  Excellency  has  been  to 
Monte  Cristo  ? " 

**  Oh,  I  shall  not,"  cried  Franz. 

"  Nor  I !  nor  I  !  "  chorused  the  sailors. 

"  Then  steer  for  Monte  Cristo." 

The  captain  gave  his  orders ;  the  bow  was  turned 
towards  the  island  ;  and  the  boat  was  soon  sailing  in  that 
direction.  Franz  waited  until  all  was  finished ;  and  when 
the  sail  was  filled  and  the  four  sailors  had  taken  their 
places,  three  forward  and  one  at  the  helm,  he  resumed 
the  conversation.  "  Gaetano,"  said  he  to  the  captain, 
"  you  tell  me  ]Monte  Cristo  serves  as  a  refuge  for  pirates, 
who  are,  it  seems  to  me,  a  very  different  kind  of  game 
from  the  goats." 


398  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency ;  and  it  is  true." 

"  I  knew  there  were  smugglers ;  but  I  thought  that 
since  the  capture  of  Algiers  and  the  destruction  of  the 
regency,  pirates  existed  only  in  the  romances  of  Cooper 
and  Captain  Marryat," 

"Your  Excellency  is  mistaken;  there  are  pirates,  just  as 
there  are  bandits,  —  who  were  believed  to  have  been  ex- 
terminated by  Pope  Leo  XII.,  and  who  yet  every  day  rob 
travellers  at  the  gates  of  Rome.  Has  not  your  Excellency 
heard  that  the  French,  charge  cPaffaires  was  robbed  six 
months  ago  within  five  hundred  paces  of  Velletri?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  that." 

"Well,  then,  if  like  us  your  Excellency  lived  at  Leg- 
horn, you  would  hear  from  time  to  time  that  a  little  mer- 
chant vessel,  or  an  English  yacht  that  was  expected  at 
Bastia,  at  Porto  Ferrajo,  or  at  Civita  Vecchia,  has  not 
arrived ;  that  no  one  knows  what  has  become  of  it,  and 
that  doubtless  it  has  struck  on  a  rock  and  foundered. 
Now,  this  rock  it  has  met  is  a  long  and  narrow  boat 
manned  by  six  or  eight  men,  who  have  surprised  and 
plundered  it  some  dark  and  stormy  night  near  some  des- 
ert and  gloomy  isle,  as  bandits  plunder  a  carriage  at  the 
corner  of  a  wood." 

"  But,"  asked  Franz,  who  lay  wrapped  in  his  cloak  at 
the  bottom  of  the  bark,  "why  do  not  those  who  have 
been  plundered  complain  to  the  French,  Sardinian,  or 
Tuscan  governments  ?  " 

"  Why  1 "  said  Gaetano,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  why?" 

"  Because  in  the  first  place  they  transfer  from  the  vessel 
to  their  own  boat  whatever  they  think  worth  taking,  then 
they  bind  the  crew  hand  and  foot ;  they  attach  to  every 
one's  neck  a  four  and  twenty  pound  ball ;  a  large  hole  is 
pierced  in  the  vessel's  bottom,  and  then  they  leave  her. 


ITALY  :    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  399 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  the  vessel  begins  to  roll,  labor, 
and  then  sink ;  then  one  of  the  sides  plunges  and  then 
the  other.  It  rises  and  sinks  again;  suddenly  a  noise 
like  the  report  of  a  cannon  is  heard,  —  it  is  the  air  break- 
ing the  deck.  Soon  the  water  rushes  out  of  the  scupper- 
holes  like  a  whale  spouting ;  the  vessel  gives  a  last  groan, 
spins  round  and  round  and  disappears,  forming  a  vast 
whirlpool  in  the  ocean,  and  then  aU  is  over.  So  that  in 
five  minutes  nothing  but  the  eye  of  God  can  see  the  vessel 
where  slie  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Do  you  under- 
stand now,"  said  the  captain,  laughing,  "why  no  com- 
plaints are  made  to  the  Government,  and  why  the  vessel 
does  not  arrive  at  the  port  1 " 

It  is  probable  that  if  Gaetano  had  related  this  previously 
to  proposing  the  expedition,  Franz  would  have  hesitated 
ere  he  accepted  it ;  but  now  that  they  had  started,  he 
thought  it  would  be  cowardly  to  draw  back.  He  was  one 
of  those  men  who  do  not  rashly  court  danger,  but  if  dan- 
ger presents  itself,  encounter  it  with  imperturbable  cool- 
ness. He  was  one  of  those  calm  and  resolute  men  who 
look  upon  a  danger  as  an  adversary  in  a  duel ;  who  cal- 
culate its  movements  and  study  its  attacks ;  who  retreat 
sufficiently  to  take  breath,  but  not  to  appear  cowardly; 
who,  understanding  all  their  advantages,  kill  at  a  single 
blow.  "  Bah  ! "  said  he,  "  I  have  travelled  through  Sicily 
and  Calabria,  I  have  sailed  two  months  in  the  Archipel- 
ago ;  and  yet  I  never  saw  even  the  shadow  of  a  bandit  or 
a  pirate." 

"  I  did  not  tell  your  Excellency  this  to  deter  you  from 
your  project,"  replied  Gaetano  ;  "  but  you  questioned  me, 
and  I  have  answered,  —  that 's  all." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Gaetano,  and  your  conversation  is  most 
interesting ;  and  as  I  wish  to  enjoy  it  as  long  as  possible, 
steer  for  Monte  Cristo." 


400  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  wind  blew  strongly ;  the  boat  sailed  six  or  seven 
knots  an  hour ;  and  they  were  rapidly  nearing  the  end  of 
their  voyage.  As  they  approached,  the  island  seemed  to 
rise  a  huge  mass  from  the  bosom  of  the  sea ;  and  through 
the  clear  atmosphere  in  the  light  of  closing  day,  they 
could  distinguish  the  rocks  heaped  on  one  another  like 
bullets  in  an  arsenal,  in  whose  crevices  they  could  see  the 
gree:i  bushes  and  trees  that  were  growing.  As  for  the 
sailors,  although  they  appeared  perfectly  tranquil,  yet  it 
was  evident  that  they  were  on  the  alert,  and  that  they 
very  carefully  watched  the  glassy  surface  over  which  they 
were  sailing,  and  on  which  a  few  fishing-boats  with  their 
white  sails  were  alone  visible.  They  were  within  fifteen 
miles  of  Monte  Cristo  when  the  sun  began  to  set  behind 
Corsica,  whose  mountains  appeared  against  the  sky,  and 
showing  their  rugged  peaks  in  bold  relief;  this  mass  of 
stones,  like  the  giant  Adamastor,  rose  threateningly  before 
the  boat,  from  which  it  hid  the  sun  that  gilded  its  higher 
peaks.  By  degrees  the  shadow  rose  from  the  sea  and 
seemed  to  drive  before  it  the  last  rays  of  the  expiring 
day.  At  last  the  reflection  rested  on  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  where  it  paused  an  instant,  like  the  fiery  crest 
of  a  volcano ;  then  the  shadow  gradually  covered  the 
summit  as  it  had  covered  the  base,  and  the  island  now 
appeared  to  be  a  gray  mountain  that  grew  continually 
darker.    Half  an  hour  later,  and  the  night  was  quite  dark. 

Fortunately  the  mariners  were  used  to  these  latitudes 
and  knew  every  rock  in  the  Tuscan  archipelago,  for  in 
the  midst  of  this  obscurity  Franz  was  not  without  uneasi- 
ness. Corsica  had  long  since  disappeared,  and  Monte 
Cristo  itself  was  invisible ;  but  the  sailors  seemed,  like 
the  lynx,  to  see  in  the  dark,  and  the  pilot  who  steered 
did  not  evince  the  slightest  hesitation.  An  hour  had 
passed  since  the  sun  had  set,  when  Franz  fancied  he  saw, 


ITALY:    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  401 

at  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  left,  a  dark  mass ;  tut  it  was 
impossible  to  make  out  what  it  was,  and  fearing  to  excite 
the  mirth  of  the  sailors  by  mistaking  a  floating  cloud  for 
land,  he  remained  silent.  Suddenly  a  great  light  appeared 
on  the  strand ;  land  might  resemble  a  cloud,  but  the  fire 
was  not  a  meteor.     "  What  is  this  light  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Silence  !  "  said  the  captain  ;  "  it  is  a  fire," 

"  But  you  told  me  the  island  was  uninhabited  !  " 

"  I  said  there  were  no  fixed  habitations  on  it ;  but 
I  said  also  that  it  served  sometimes  as  a  harbor  for 
smugglers." 

"  And  for  pirates  1 " 

"  And  for  pirates,"  returned  Gaetano,  repeating  Franz's 
words.  "  It  is  for  that  reason  I  have  given  orders  to  pass 
the  isle,  for,  as  you  see,  the  fire  is  behind  us." 

"But  this  fire,"  continued  Franz,  "seems  to  me  a  thing 
that  should  rather  assure  than  alarm  us ;  men  who  did  not 
wish  to  be  seen  would  not  light  a  fire." 

"  Oh,  that  goes  for  nothing,"  said  Gaetano.  "  If  you 
can  guess  the  position  of  the  island  in  the  darkness,  you 
will  see  that  the  fire  cannot  be  seen  from  the  side,  or  from 
Pianoso,  but  only  from  the  sea." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  this  fire  announces  unwelcome 
neighbors  1 " 

"That  is  what  we  must  ascertain,"  returned  Gaetano, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  this  terrestrial  star. 

"  How  can  you  ascertain  ?  '* 

"You  shall  see." 

Gaetano  consixlted  with  his  companions ;  and  after  five 
minutes'  discussion  a  manoeuvre  was  executed  which  caused 
the  boat  to  tack  about.  They  returned  in  the  direction  from 
which  they  had  come,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  fire  disap- 
peared, hidden  by  a  rise  in  the  land.  The  pilot  again 
changed  the  course  of  the  little  vessel,  which  rapidly  ap- 

VOL.  I. —26 


402  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

proached  the  island,  and  was  soon  within  fifty  paces  of  it. 
Gaetano  lowered  the  sail,  and  the  boat  remained  station- 
ary. All  this  was  done  in  silence,  and  since  their  course 
had  been  changed  not  a  word  was  spoken. 

Gaetano,  who  had  proposed  the  expedition,  had  taken 
all  the  responsibility  on  himself;  the  four  sailors  fixed 
their  eyes  on  him,  while  they  prepared  their  oars  and  held 
themselves  in  readiness  to  row  away,  which,  thanks  to  the 
darkness,  would  not  be  difficult.  As  for  Franz,  he  exam- 
ined his  arms  with  the  utmost  coolness.  Ho  had  two 
double-barrelled  guns  and  a  rifle ;  he  loaded  them,  looked 
at  the  locks,  and  waited  quietly.  During  this  time  the 
captain  had  thrown  off  his  vest  and  shirt,  and  secured  his 
trousers  round  his  waist ;  his  feet  were  naked,  so  he  had 
no  shoes  and  stockings  to  take  off.  After  these  prepara- 
tions he  placed  his  finger  on  his  lips,  and  lowering  him- 
self noiselessly  into  the  sea,  swam  towards  the  shore  with 
such  precaution  that  it  was  impossible  to  hear  the  slight- 
est sound ;  he  could  be  traced  only  by  the  phosphorescent 
line  in  his  wake.  This  track  soon  disappeared;  it  was 
evident  that  he  had  touched  the  shore.  Every  one  on 
board  remained  motionless  during  half  an  hour,  when  the 
same  luminous  track  was  again  observed,  and  in  two 
strokes  he  had  regained  the  boat. 

"  Well  1 "  exclaimed  Franz  and  the  sailors  all  together. 

"They  are  Spanish  smugglers,"  saia  hej  "they  have 
with  them  two  Corsican  bandits." 

"And  what  are  these  Corsican  bandits  doing  here  with 
Spanish  smugglers  1 " 

"Alas!  "  returned  the  captain,  with  an  accent  of  pro- 
found Christian  charity,  "we  ought  always  to  help  one 
another.  Very  often  the  bandits  are  hard  pressed  by 
gendarmes  or  carbineers;  well,  they  see  a  boat,  and 
good  fellows  like  us  on  board.     They  come  and  demand 


ITALY  :    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  403 

hospitality  of  us.  How  can  you  refuse  help  to  a  poor 
hunted  devil  ?  We  receive  them,  and  for  greater  security 
we  stand  out  to  sea.  This  costs  us  nothing,  and  saves 
the  life,  or  at  least  the  liberty,  of  a  fellow-creature,  who 
on  the  first  occasion  returns  the  service  by  pointing  out 
some  safe  spot  where  we  can  land  our  goods  without 
interruption." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Franz,  "  then  you  are  a  smuggler  occasion- 
ally, Gaetano  1 " 

"  Your  Excellency,  one  does  a  little  of  everything ;  we 
must  live  somehow,"  returned  the  other,  smiling  in  a  way 
impossible  to  describe. 

"Then  you  know  the  men  who  are  now  on  Monte 
Cristo  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  sailors  are  like  freemasons,  and  recognize 
each  other  by  certain  signs." 

"  And  do  you  think  we  have  nothing  to  fear  if  we  land  1 " 

"Nothing  at  all !  smugglers  are  not  thieves." 

"But  these  two  Corsican  bandits ]"  said  Franz,  calcu- 
lating the  chances  of  peril. 

"  Eh  ! "  said  Gaetano,  "  it  is  not  their  fault  that  they 
are  bandits ;  it  is  that  of  the  authorities." 

"How  so?" 

"  Because  they  are  pursued  for  having  made  a  pea7i,  as 
if  it  was  not  in  a  Corsican's  nature  to  revenge  himself." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  having  made  a  peau,  — 
having  assassinated  a  man?"  said  Franz,  continuing  his 
investigation. 

"  I  mean  that  they  have  killed  an  enemy,  which  is  a 
very  different  thing,"  returned  the  captain. 

"Well,"  said  the  young  man,  "let  us  demand  hospi- 
tality of  these  smugglers  and  bandits.  Do  you  think 
they  will  grant  if?" 

"Without  doubt." 


404  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"How  many  are  they?" 

"Four,  and  the  two  bandits  make  six." 

"Just  our  number,  so  that  if  they  prove  troublesome 
we  shall  be  able  to  check  them ;  so  for  the  last  time 
steer  to  Monte  Cristo." 

"Yes;  but  your  Excellency  will  permit  us  to  take  some 
precautions." 

"  By  all  means ;  be  as  wise  as  Kestor  and  as  prudent  as 
Ulysses.     I  do  more  than  permit,  I  exhort  you." 

"  Silence,  then  !  "  said  Gaetano. 

Every  one  obeyed.  For  a  man  who,  like  Franz,  viewed 
his  position  in  its  true  light,  it  was  a  grave  one.  He  was 
alone  in  the  darkness  with  sailors  whom  he  did  not  know 
and  who  had  no  reason  to  be  devoted  to  him ;  who  knew 
that  he  had  in  his  belt  several  thousand  livres ;  and  who 
had  often  examined  his  arms,  which  were  very  beautiful, 
if  not  with  envy,  at  least  with  curiosity.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  was  about  to  land  without  any  other  escort  than 
these  men,  on  an  island  which  bore  a  very  religious  name, 
but  which  did  not  seem  to  oflPer  Franz  any  other  hospi- 
tality than  that  of  Calvary  to  Christ,  thanks  to  the  smug- 
glers and  bandits.  The  history  of  the  scuttled  vessels, 
which  had  appeared  improbable  during  the  day,  seemed 
very  probable  at  night.  Placed  as  he  was  between  two 
imaginary  dangers,  he  did  not  quit  the  crew  with  his  eyes, 
or  his  gun  with  his  hand. 

However,  the  sailors  had  again  hoisted  the  sail,  and  the 
vessel  was  once  more  cleaving  the  waves.  Through  the 
darkness  Franz,  whose  eyes  w^ere  now  more  accustomed  to 
it,  distinguished  the  granite  giant  by  which  the  boat  was 
sailing ;  and  then,  turning  an  angle  of  the  rock,  he  saw  the 
fire  more  brilliant  than  ever,  round  which  five  or  six  per- 
sons were  seated.  The  blaze  illumined  the  sea  for  a  hun- 
dred paces  round.     Gaetano  skirted  the  light,  carefully 


ITALY  :    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  405 

keeping  the  boat  out  of  its  rays ;  then,  when  they  were 
opposite  the  fire,  he  entered  into  the  centre  of  the  circle, 
singing  a  fishing-song,  of  which  his  companions  sang  the 
chorus.  At  the  first  words  of  the  song,  the  men  seated 
round  the  fire  rose  and  approached  the  landing-place,  their 
eyes  fixed  on  the  boat,  of  which  they  evidently  sought  to 
judge  the  force  and  divine  the  intention.  They  soon  ap- 
peared satisfied  and  returned  (with  the  exception  of  one, 
who  remained  at  the  shore)  to  their  fire,  at  which  a  whole 
goat  was  roasting.  When  the  boat  was  within  twenty 
paces  of  the  shore,  the  man  on  the  beach  made  with  his 
carbine  the  movement  of  a  sentinel  who  sees  a  patrol,  and 
cried,  "  Who  goes  there  1 "  in  Sardinian.  Franz  coolly 
cocked  both  barrels.  Gaetano  then  exchanged  a  few 
words  with  this  man,  which  the  traveller  did  not  un- 
derstand, but  which  evidently  concerned  him. 

"  Will  your  Excellency  give  your  name,  or  remain  incog- 
nito ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"  My  name  must  rest  unknown ;  merely  say  I  am  a 
Frenchman  travelling  for  pleasure." 

As  soon  as  Gaetano  had  transmitted  this  answer,  the 
sentinel  gave  an  order  to  one  of  the  men  seated  round  the 
fire,  who  rose  and  disappeared  among  the  rocks.  I^ot  a 
word  was  spoken ;  every  one  seemed  occupied,  —  Franz 
with  his  disembarkment,  the  sailors  with  their  sails,  the 
smugglers  with  their  goat,  —  but  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
carelessness  it  was  evident  that  they  mutually  observed 
each  other.  The  man  who  had  disappeared  returned  sud- 
denly on  the  opposite  side  to  that  by  which  he  had  left ; 
he  made  a  sign  with  his  head  to  the  sentinel,  who,  turn- 
ing to  the  boat  uttered  these  words,  "  S'accommodi.**  The 
Italian  s'accommodi  is  untranslatable ;  it  means  at  once : 
*'  Come ;  enter ;  you  are  welcome ;  make  yourself  at 
home  j  you  are  the  master."     It  is   like   that   Turkish 


406  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

phrase  of  Moliere's  that  so  astonished  le  bourgeois  gentil- 
homme  by  the  number  of  things  it  contained.  The  sailors 
did  not  wait  for  a  second  invitation ;  four  strokes  of  the 
oar  brought  them  to  the  land.  Gaetano  sprang  to  shore, 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  sentinel ;  then  his  com- 
rades disembarked,  and  lastly  came  Franz's  turn.  One  of 
his  guns  was  swung  over  his  shoulder,  Gaetano  had  the 
other,  and  a  sailor  held  his  rifle  ;  his  dress,  half  artist, 
half  dandy,  excited  no  suspicion,  and  consequently  no 
disquietude.  The  boat  was  moored  to  the  shore,  and 
they  advanced  a  few  paces  to  find  a  comfortable  bivouac ; 
but  doubtless  the  spot  they  chose  did  not  suit  the  smug- 
gler who  filled  the  post  of  sentinel,  for  he  cried  out,  "  Ifot 
that  way,  if  you  please." 

Gaetano  faltered  an  excuse,  and  advanced  to  the  op- 
posite side,  while  two  sailors  kindled  torches  at  the  fire  to 
light  them  on  their  way.  They  advanced  about  thirty 
paces,  and  then  stopped  at  a  small  esplanade  surrounded 
with  rocks,  in  which  seats  had  been  cut,  not  unlike  sentry- 
boxes.  Around  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  grew  a  few 
dwarf  oaks  and  thick  bushes  of  myrtles.  Franz  lowered 
a  torch  and  saw  by  the  light  of  a  mass  of  cinders  that  he 
was  not  the  first  to  discover  this  retreat,  which  was  doubt- 
less one  of  the  halting-places  of  the  wandering  visitors  of 
Monte  Cristo.  As  for  his  anticipation  of  events,  once  on 
terra  firma,  once  that  he  had  seen  the  indifferent  if  not 
friendly  appearance  of  his  hosts,  his  preoccupation  had 
disappeared,  or  rather  at  sight  of  the  goat  had  turned  to 
appetite.  He  mentioned  this  to  Gaetano,  who  replied  that 
nothing  could  be  more  easy  than  to  prepare  a  supper,  since 
they  had  in  their  boat  bread,  wine,  half  a  dozen  partridges, 
and  a  good  fire  to  roast  them  by.  "  Besides,"  added  be, 
"  if  the  smell  of  their  roast  meat  tempts  you,  I  will  go  and 
ofi'er  them  two  of  our  birds  for  a  slice." 


ITALY  :    SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR.  407 

"  You  seem  "bom  for  negotiation,"  returned  Franz ; 
"go  and  try." 

During  this  time  the  sailors  had  collected  dried  sticks 
and  branches,  with  which  they  made  a  fire.  Franz 
waited  impatiently,  smelling  the  odor  of  the  goat,  when 
the  captain  returned  with  a  mysterious  air. 

"  Well,"  inquired  Franz,  "  anything  new  1  Do  they 
refuse  1 " 

'*  On  the  contrary,"  returned  Gaetano,  "  the  chief,  who 
was  told  you  were  a  young  Frenchman,  invites  you  to  sup 
with  him." 

"  Well,"  observed  Franz,  "  this  chief  is  very  polite  ;  and 
I  see  no  objection,  —  especially  as  I  bring  my  share  of  the 
supper." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that,  —  he  has  plenty  and  to  spare  for 
supper;  but  he  attaches  a  singular  condition  to  your 
presentation   at   his  house." 

"  His  house  !    has  he  built  one  here,  then  t " 

*'  No,  but  he  has  a  very  comfortable  one  all  the  same, 
so  they  say." 

"  You  know  this  chief,  then  1  " 

"  I  have  heard  him  spoken  of." 

"lUorweUr' 

"  Both." 

"  The  devil !  and  what  is  this  condition  1 " 

**  That  you  are  blindfolded,  and  do  not  take  off  the 
bandage  until  he  himself  bids  you."  Franz  looked  at 
Gaetano,  to  see,  if  possible,  what  he  thought  of  this 
proposal.  "  Ah,"  replied  he,  guessing  Franz's  thought, 
"  I  know  this  merits  reflection." 

"  What  should  you  do  in  my  place  1 " 

"  I,  who  have  nothing  to  lose,  —  I  should  go." 

"  You  would  accept  t.  " 

"  Yes,  were  it  only  out  of  curiosity." 


408  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"There  is  sometliing  very  curious  about  this  chief, 
then  1 " 

" Listen,"  said  Gaetano,  lowering  his  voice ;  "I  do  not 
know  if  what  they  say  is  true  — "  He  stopped  to  see  if 
any  one  was  near. 

"  What  do  they  say  ]  " 

"  That  this  chief  inhabits  a  cavern  to  which  the  Pitti 
Palace  is  nothing." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  said  Franz,  reseating  himself. 

"  It  is  no  nonsense ;  it  is  quite  true.  Cama,  the  pilot 
of  the  '  St.  Ferdinand,'  went  in  once,  and  he  came  back 
amazed,  vowing  that  such  treasures  were  only  to  be  heard 
of  in  fairy  tales." 

"  Do  you  know,"  observed  Franz,  "  that  with  such 
stories  you  would  make  me  enter  the  enchanted  cavern 
of  Ali  Baba  1 " 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  have  been  told." 

"Then  you  advise  me  to  accept?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  that ;  your  Excellency  will  do  as  you 
please.    I  should  be  sorry  to  advise  you  in  the  matter." 

Franz  reflected  a  few  moments,  felt  that  a  man  so  rich 
could  not  have  any  intention  of  plundering  him  of  what 
little  he  had  ;  and  seeing  only  the  prospect  of  a  good 
supper,  he  accepted.  Gaetano  departed  with  the  reply. 
Franz  was  prudent,  and  wished  to  learn  all  he  possibly 
could  concerning  his  host.  He  turned  towards  the  sailor 
who  during  this  dialogue  had  sat  gravely  plucking  the 
partridges  with  the  air  of  a  man  proud  of  his  office,  and 
asked  him  how  these  men  had  landed,  as  no  vessel  of  any 
kind  was  visible. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  returned  the  sailor  ;  "  I  know  their 
vessel.'* 

"  Is  it  a  very  beautiful  vessel  t " 

"  I  would  not  wish  for  a  better  to  sail  round  the  world." 


ITALY  :    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  409 

**  Of  what  burden  is  she  1  " 

"  About  a  hundred  tons  ;  but  she  is  built  to  stand  any 
weather.     She  is  what  the  English  call  a  yacht." 

"  Where  was  she  built  ?  " 

*'  I  do  not  know ;  but  my  own  opinion  is  she  is  a 
Genoese." 

"  And  how  did  a  leader  of  smugglers,"  continued  Franz, 
"  venture  to  build  a  vessel  designed  for  such  a  purpose  at 
Genoa ] " 

*'  I  did  not  say  that  the  owner  was  a  smuggler,"  replied 
the  sailor. 

"  No  ;  but  Gaetano  did,  I  thought." 

*'  Gaetano  had  only  seen  the  vessel  from  a  distance ;  he 
had  not  then  spoken  to  any  one." 

"  And  if  this  person  be  not  a  smuggler,  who  is  heV* 

"  A  wealthy  signer,  who  travels  for  his  pleasure." 

*'  Come,"  thought  Franz,  "  he  is  still  more  mysterious, 
since  the  two  accounts  do  not  agree.    What  is  his  name  1 " 

"  If  you  ask  him  he  says  Sinbad  the  Sailor ;  but  I  doubt 
its  being  his  real  name." 

"Sinbad  the  Sailor  1" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  where  does  he  reside  ] " 

"  On  the  sea." 

"  What  country  does  he  come  from  f  ** 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  him  1  ** 

"  Sometimes." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  1 " 

"  Your  Excellency  will  judge  for  yourself." 

"  Where  will  he  receive  me  1 " 

"  No  doubt  in  ^the  subterranean  palace  Gaetano  told 
you  of." 

"  Have  you  never  had  the  curiosity,  when  vou  have 


410  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

landed  and  found  this  island  deserted,  to  seek  for  this  en- 
chanted palace  1 " 

"  Oh,  yes,  more  than  once,  but  always  in  vain ;  we  ex- 
amined the  grotto  aU  over,  but  we  never  could  find  the 
slightest  trace  of  any  opening.  They  say  that  the  door 
is  not  opened  by  a  key,  but  by  a  magic  word." 

"  Decidedly,"  muttered  Franz,  "  this  is  an  adventure  of 
the  '  Arabian  Nights.'  " 

"  His  Excellency  waits  for  you,"  said  a  voice  which 
Franz  recognized  as  that  of  the  sentinel.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  two  of  the  yacht's  crew.  Franz  drew  his  hand- 
kerchief from  his  pocket  and  presented  it  to  the  man  who 
had  spoken  to  him.  Without  uttering  a  word  they  ban- 
daged his  eyes  with  a  care  that  showed  their  apprehension 
of  his  committing  some  indiscretion.  Afterwards  he  was 
made  to  promise  that  he  would  not  make  any  attempt  to 
raise  the  bandage.  Then  his  two  guides  took  his  arms, 
and  he  advanced,  guided  by  them  and  preceded  by  the 
sentinel.  After  advancing  about  thirty  paces  he  perceived 
the  appetizing  odor  of  the  kid  that  was  roasting,  and  knew 
thus  that  he  was  passing  the  bivouac ;  they  then  led  him 
on  about  fifty  paces  farther,  evidently  advancing  in  the 
direction  forbidden  to  Gaetano,  —  a  prohibition  which  he 
could  now  comprehend.  Presently,  by  a  change  in  the 
atmosphere  he  perceived  that  they  were  entering  a  cave ; 
after  going  on  for  a  few  seconds  more  he  heard  a  crack- 
ling, and  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  the  atmosphere 
again  changed,  and  became  balmy  and  perfumed.  At 
length  his  feet  touched  on  a  thick  and  soft  carpet,  and 
his  guides  let  go  their  hold  of  him. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  a  voice,  in 
excellent  French,  although  with  a  foreign  accent,  said, 
"  Welcome,  Monsieur !  I  beg  you  will  remove  your  ban- 
dage."    As  may  be  easily  imagined,  Franz  did  not  wait 


ITALY  :    SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR.  411 

for  a  repetition  of  this  permission,  but  took  off  the  hand- 
kerchief and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  man  from 
thirty-eight  to  forty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  Tunisian 
costume,  —  that  is  to  say,  a  red  cap  with  a  long  blue  silk 
tassel,  a  vest  of  black  cloth  embroidered  with  gold,  panta- 
loons of  deep  red,  large  and  full  gaiters  of  the  same  color, 
embroidered  with  gold  like  the  vest,  and  yellow  slippers ; 
he  had  a  splendid  cashmere  round  his  waist,  and  a  small 
cimeter,  sharp  and  curved,  was  passed  through  his  girdle. 
Although  of  a  paleness  that  was  almost  livid,  this  man 
had  a  remarkably  handsome  face ;  his  eyes  were  penetra- 
ting and  sparkling ;  his  nose,  straight  and  almost  in  line 
with  his  brow,  exhibited  the  Greek  type  in  all  its  purity, 
■while  his  teeth,  as  white  as  pearls,  were  well  set  off  by 
the  black  mustache  that  covered  them. 

But  that  paleness  was  striking ;  it  might  be  imagined 
that  he  had  been  imprisoned  for  a  long  time  in  a  tomb, 
and  was  unable  to  recover  the  healthy  glow  and  hue  of 
the  living.  He  was  not  particularly  tall,  but  extremely 
■well  made,  and  like  the  men  of  the  South,  had  small 
hands  and  feet.  But  what  astonished  Franz,  who  had 
treated  Gaetano's  description  as  a  fable,  was  the  splendor 
of  the  apartment  in  which  he  found  himself.  The  entire 
chamber  was  lined  with  crimson  brocade  worked  with 
flowers  of  gold.  In  a  recess  was  a  kind  of  divan,  sur- 
mounted by  a  stand  of  Arabian  swords  in  silver  scabbards, 
the  handles  resplendent  with  gems ;  from  the  ceiling  hung 
a  lamp  of  Venetian  glass,  of  beautiful  shape  and  color, 
■while  the  feet  rested  on  a  Turkey  carpet,  in  which  they 
sunk  to  the  instep  ;  tapestry  was  suspended  before  the 
door  by  which  Franz  had  entered,  and  also  in  front  of 
another  door,  leading  into  a  second  apartment,  which 
seemed  to  be  brilliantly  lighted  up. 

The  host  left  Franz  for  a  moment  absorbed  in  his  sur- 


412  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

prise,  and  moreover  rendered  him  look  for  look,  not  tak- 
ing his  eyes  off  him.  "Monsieur,"  he  said  at  length,  "a 
thousand  excuses  for  the  precaution  taken  in  your  intro- 
duction hither ;  but  as  during  the  greater  portion  of  the 
year  this  island  is  deserted,  if  the  secret  of  this  abode 
were  discovered,  I  should  doubtless  on  my  return  hither 
find  my  temporary  retirement  in  a  state  of  great  disorder, 
which  would  be  exceedingly  annoying,  not  for  the  loss  it 
might  occasion,  but  because  I  should  not  have  the  cer- 
tainty I  now  possess  of  being  able  to  separate  myself  at 
pleasure  from  all  the  rest  of  mankind.  Let  me  now  en- 
deavor to  make  you  forget  this  temporary  unpleasantness, 
and  offer  you  what  no  doubt  you  did  not  expect  to  find 
here,  —  that  is  to  say,  a  tolerable  supper  and  pretty  com- 
fortable beds." 

"J/a  foi!  my  dear  host,"  replied  Franz,  "make  no 
apologies.  I  have  always  observed  that  they  bandage  the 
eyes  of  those  who  penetrate  enchanted  palaces,  —  for  in- 
stance, those  of  Raoul  in  '  The  Huguenots ; '  and  really  I 
have  nothing  to  complain  of,  for  what  I  see  is  a  sequel  to 
the  wonders  of  the  'Arabian  Xights.' " 

"  Alas  !  I  may  say  with  Lucullus,  '  If  I  could  have  an- 
ticipated the  honor  of  your  visit,  I  would  have  prepared 
for  it.'  But  such  as  is  my  hermitage,  it  is  at  your  dis- 
posal ;  such  as  is  my  supper,  it  is  yours  to  share  if  you 
will.     Ali,  is  the  supper  ready  ?  '* 

At  this  moment  the  tapestry  was  moved  aside,  and  a 
Nubian,  black  as  ebony,  and  dressed  in  a  plain  white 
tunic,  made  a  sign  to  his  master  that  all  was  prepared  in 
the  dining-hall. 

"  Now,"  said  the  unknown  to  Franz,  "  I  do  not  know 
if  you  are  of  my  opinion,  but  I  think  nothing  is  more 
annoying  than  for  two  persons  to  remain  two  or  three 
hours  face  to  face  without  knowing  by  what  name  or  title 


ITALY  :    SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR.  413 

to  address  one  another.  Pray  observe  that  I  too  much 
respect  the  laws  of  hospitality  to  ask  your  name  or  title. 
I  only  request  you  to  give  me  one  by  which  I  may  have 
the  pleasure  of  addressing  you.  As  for  myself,  that  I 
may  put  you  at  your  ease,  I  teU  you  that  I  am  generally 
called  '  Sinbad  the  Sailor.'  " 

"  And  I,"  replied  Franz,  "  will  tell  you,  as  I  only  re- 
quire his  wonderful  lamp  to  make  me  precisely  like  Alad- 
din, that  I  see  na.J:fiason  why  at  this  moment  I  should 
not  be  called'v^laddin.  |  That  will  keep  us  from  going 
away  from  the  East,  whither  I  am  tempted  to  think  I 
have  been  conveyed  by  some  good  genius." 

"  Well,  then.  Signer  Aladdin,"  replied  the  singular 
amphitryon,  "you  heard  our  repast  announced;  will  you 
now  take  the  trouble  to  enter  the  dining-hall,  your  humble 
servant  going  first  to  show  the  way  1 "  At  these  words, 
moving  aside  the  tapestry,  Sinbad  preceded  his  guest. 
Franz  proceeded  from  one  enchantment  to  another;  the 
table  was  splendidly  covered,  and  once  convinced  of  this 
important  point,  he  cast  his  eyes  around  him.  The  din- 
ing-hall was  scarcely  less  striking  than  the  boudoir  lie  had 
just  left ;  it  was  entirely  of  marble,  with  antique  bas- 
reliefs  of  priceless  value,  and  at  the  two  ends  of  the  hall, 
which  was  oblong,  were  two  magnificent  statues  having 
baskets  in  their  hands.  These  baskets  contained  four 
pyramids  of  magnificent  fruit;  there  were  the  pine-apples 
of  Sicily,  pomegranates  from  Malaga,  oranges  from  the 
Balearic  Isles,  peaches  from  France,  and  dates  from  Tunis. 
The  supper  consisted  of  a  roast  pheasant  garnished  with 
Corsicau  blackbirds ;  a  boar's  ham,  a  la  gelee,  a  quarter  of 
a  kid,  a  la  tartare,  a  glorious  turbot,  and  a  gigantic  lobster. 
Between  these  large  dishes  were  smaller  ones  containing 
various  dainties.  The  dishes  were  of  silver  and  the  plates 
of  Japanese  porcelain. 


414  THE    COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

Franz  rubbed  his  eyes  to  assure  himself  that  this  was 
not  a  dream.  Ali  alone  was  present  to  wait  at  table,  and 
acquitted  himself  so  admirably  that  the  guest  compli- 
mented his  host  thereupon. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  while  he  did  the  honors  of  the  sup- 
per with  much  ease  and  grace,  —  "  yes,  he  is  a  poor  devil 
who  is  much  devoted  to  me,  and  does  all  he  can  to  prove 
it.  He  remembers  that  I  saved  his  life,  and  as  he  has  a 
regard  for  his  head,  he  feels  some  gratitude  towards  me 
for  having  kept  it  on  his  shoulders." 

Ali  approached  his  master,  took  his  hand,  and  kissed  it. 

"  Would  it  be  impertinent,  Signor  Sinbad,"  said  Franz, 
"to  ask  you  under  what  circumstances  you  performed  that 
excellent  deed  ? " 

*'  Oh  !  it  is  a  simple  matter,"  replied  the  host.  "  It 
seems  the  fellow  had  been  caught  wandering  nearer  to  the 
harem  of  the  Bey  of  Tunis  than  etiquette  permits  to  one 
of  his  color  :  and  he  was  condemned  by  the  bey  to  have 
his  tongue  cut  out,  and  his  hand  and  head  cut  off,  —  the 
tongue  the  first  day,  the  hand  the  second,  and  the  head 
the  third.  I  always  had  a  desire  to  have  a  mute  in  my 
service.  I  waited  until  his  tongue  had  been  cut  out,  and 
then  proposed  to  the  bey  that  he  should  sell  me  Ali  for 
a  splendid  double-barrelled  gun  which  I  knew  he  was 
very  eager  to  possess.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  so  intent 
was  he  on  finishing  up  with  the  poor  devil.  But  when  I 
added  to  the  gun  an  English  cutlass  with  which  I  had 
shivered  his  Highness's  yataghan,  the  bey  yielded,  and 
agreed  to  forgive  the  hand  and  head,  but  on  condition  that 
he  would  never  again  set  foot  in  Tunis.  This  was  a  useless 
clause  in  the  bargain,  for  whenever  the  coward  sees  the 
first  glimpse  of  the  shores  of  Africa,  he  runs  down  below, 
and  can  be  induced  to  appear  again  only  when  we  are  out 
of  sight  of  the  third  part  of  the  globe." 


ITALY:    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  415 

Franz  remained  a  moment  mute  and  pensive,  hardly 
knowing  what  to  think  of  the  cruel  bonhomie  with  which 
his  host  had  related  this  incident.  "  And  like  the  cele- 
brated sailor  whose  name  you  have  assumed,"  he  said,  by 
way  of  changing  the  conversation,  "  you  pass  your  life  in 
travelling  1 " 

"  Yes.  It  is  in  fulfilment  of  a  vow  which  I  made  at  a 
time  when  I  little  thought  I  should  ever  be  able  to  accom- 
plish it,"  said  the  unknown,  with  a  singular  smile.  "  I 
made  some  others  also,  which  I  hope  I  may  fulfil  in  due 
season." 

Although  Sinbad  pronounced  these  words  with  much 
calmness,  his  eyes  darted  gleams  of  singular  ferocity. 

"  You  have  suffered  a  great  deal,  Monsieur'? "  said  Franz, 
inquiringly. 

Sinbad  started  and  looked  fixedly  at  him,  as  he  replied, 
**  What  makes  you  suppose  so  ?  " 

"Everything!"  answered  Franz,  "your  voice,  your  look, 
your  paUid  complexion,  and  even  the  life  you  lead." 

"  I  !  I  live  the  happiest  life  I  know,  —  the  real  life  of 
a  pacha.  I  am  king  of  all  creation.  I  am  pleased  with 
one  place,  and  stay  there  ;  I  get  tired  of  it,  and  leave  it. 
I  am  free  as  a  bird,  and  have  wings  like  one.  My  attend- 
ants obey  me  at  a  signal.  Sometimes  I  amuse  myself  by 
carrying  off  from  human  justice  some  bandit  it  is  in  quest 
of,  some  criminal  whom  it  pursues.  Then  I  have  my 
mode  of  dispensing  justice,  silent  and  sure,  without  respite 
or  appeal,  which  condemns  or  pardons,  and  which  no  one 
sees.  Ah  !  if  you  had  tasted  my  life,  you  would  not  de- 
sire any  other,  and  would  never  return  to  the  world  unless 
you  had  some  great  project  to  accomplish  there." 

"  A  vengeance,  for  instance  !  "  observed  Franz. 

The  unknown  fixed  on  the  young  man  one  of  those 
looks   which    penetrate    into    the   depth   of    the    heart 


416  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  of  the  thoughts.  "  And  why  a  vengeance  1 "  he 
asked. 

"  Because,"  replied  Franz,  "  you  seem  to  me  like  a  man 
■who,  persecuted  by  society,  has  a  fearful  account  to  settle 
with  it." 

"Ah!"  responded  Sinbad,  laughing  with  his  singular 
laugh,  which  displayed  his  white  and  sharp  teeth.  *'  You 
have  not  guessed  rightly.  Such  as  you  see  me,  I  am  a 
sort  of  philosopher ;  and  one  day  perhaps  I  shall  go  to 
Paris  to  rival  M.  Appert  and  the  man  in  the  Little  Blue 
Cloak." 

"  And  will  that  bo  the  first  time  you  will  have  made 
that  journey  1 " 

"  Yes,  it  will.  I  must  seem  to  you  by  no  means  curious, 
but  I  assure  you  that  it  is  not  my  fault  I  have  delayed  it 
so  long  ;  I  shall  get  around  to  it  some  day." 

"  And  do  you  propose  to  make  this  journey  soon  1 " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  it  depends  on  circumstances  which 
are  subject  to  uncertain  contingencies." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  there  at  the  time  you  come,  and  I 
will  endeavor  to  repay  you  as  far  as  lies  in  my  power  for 
your  liberal  hospitality  at  Monte  Cristo." 

"  I  should  avail  myself  of  your  offer  with  pleasure," 
replied  the  host ;  "  but  unfortunately,  if  I  go  there,  I  shall 
perhaps  prefer  to  remain  unknown." 

Meantime  they  were  proceeding  with  the  supper,  which 
however  appeared  to  have  been  supplied  solely  for  Franz, 
for  the  unknown  scarcely  touched  one  or  two  dishes  of  the 
splendid  banquet  to  which  his  unexpected  guest  did  ample 
justice.  Then  All  brought  on  the  dessert,  or  rather  took 
the  baskets  from  the  hands  of  the  statues  and  placed  them 
on  the  table.  Between  the  two  baskets  he  placed  a  small 
silver  cup,  closed  with  a  lid  of  the  same  metal.  The  care 
with  which  Ali  placed  this  cup  on  the  table  roused  Franz's 


ITALY:    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  417 

curiosity.  He  raised  the  lid  and  saw  a  kind  of  greenish 
paste,  something  like  preserved  angelica,  but  which  was" 
entirely  unknown  to  him.  He  replaced  the  lid,  as  ignorant 
of  what  the  cup  contained  as  he  was  before  he  had  looked 
at  it,  and  then  casting  his  eyes  towards  his  host  he  saw 
him  smile  at  his  disappointment. 

"You  cannot  divine  what  sort  of  confection  is  contained 
in  that  little  vase ;  and  it  perplexes  you,  does  it  not  1 " 

*'  I  confess  it." 

"  Well,  then,  that  green  confection  is  nothing  less  than 
the  ambrosia  Avhich  Hebe  served  at  the  table  of  Jupiter." 

"  But,"  replied  Franz,  "  this  ambrosia,  no  doubt,  in 
passing  through  mortal  hands  has  lost  its  heavenly  appel- 
lation and  assumed  a  human  name  ;  in  vulgar  phrase, 
what  may  you  term  this  composition  1  —  for  which,  to 
say  the  truth,  I  do  not  feel  any  particular  desire." 

"  Ah  !  thus  it  is  that  our  material  origin  is  revealed," 
cried  Sinbad  :  "  we  frequently  pass  so  near  to  happiness 
without  seeing,  without  regarding  it ;  or  if  we  do  see  and 
regard  it,  yet  without  recognizing  it.  Are  you  a  man  for 
the  substantials,  and  is  gold  your  god  ?  taste  this,  and  the 
mines  of  Peru,  Guzerat,  and  Golconda  are  opened  to  you. 
Are  you  a  man  of  imagination,  —  a  poet  1  taste  this,  and 
the  boundaries  of  possibility  disappear ;  the  fields  of  in- 
finite space  open  to  you ;  you  advance  free  in  heart,  free 
in  mind,  into  the  boundless  realms  of  unfettered  revelry. 
Are  you  ambitious,  and  do  you  seek  to  reach  the  high 
places  of  the  earth  1  taste  this,  and  in  an  hour  you  will 
be  a  king,  —  not  a  king  of  a  petty  kingdom  hidden  in 
some  corner  of  Europe,  like  France,  Spain,  or  England, 
but  king  of  the  world,  king  of  the  universe,  king  of  crea- 
tion ;  your  throne  will  be  established  on  the  mountain 
to  which  Jesus  was  taken  by  Satan,  and  without  being 
obliged  to  do  homage  to  Satan,  without  being  compelled 

VOL.  I.  —27 


418  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

to  kiss  liis  claw,  you  will  be  sovereign  lord  of  all  the  king* 
doms  of  the  earth.  Is  it  not  tempting  ]  And  is  it  not  an 
easy  thing,  since  it  is  only  to  do  thus  ?  look  !  "  At  these 
words  he  uncovered  the  small  cup  which  contained  the 
substance  so  lauded,  took  a  teaspoonful  of  the  magic  sweet- 
meat, raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  swallowed  it  slowly,  with  his 
eyes  half  shut  and  his  head  bent  backward.  Franz  did 
not  disturb  him  while  he  absorbed  his  favorite  honne  houche, 
but  when  he  had  finished,  he  inquired,  — 

"  What,  then,  is  this  precious  stuff?  " 

"  Did  you  ever  hear,"  asked  the  host,  "of  the  Old  Man 
of  the  Mountain,  who  attempted  to  assassinate  Philippe 
Augustus  ] " 

"  Of  course  I  have." 

"  Well,  you  know  he  reigned  over  a  rich  valley  which 
was  overhung  by  the  mountain  whence  he  derived  his 
picturesque  name.  In  this  valley  were  magnificent  gar- 
dens planted  by  Hassen-ben-Sabah,  and  in  these  gardens 
isolated  pavilions.  Into  these  pavilions  he  admitted  the 
elect ;  and  there,  says  Marco  Polo,  he  gave  them  a  certain 
herb  to  eat,  which  transported  them  to  Paradise  to  the 
midst  of  ever  blooming  shrubs,  ever  ripe  fruit,  and  ever 
lovely  virgins.  Now,  what  these  happy  persons  took  for 
reality  was  but  a  dream,  but  it  was  a  dream  so  soft,  so 
voluptuous,  so  enthralling,  that  they  sold  themselves  body 
and  soul  to  him  who  gave  it  to  them.  They  were  as  obedient 
to  his  orders  as  to  those  of  God ;  they  went  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth  to  strike  down  the  victim  indicated  to  them ; 
and  they  died  in  torture  without  a  murmur,  —  believing 
that  death  was  but  a  quick  transition  to  that  life  of  delights 
of  which  the  holy  herb  now  before  you  had  given  them 
a  slight  foretaste." 

"  Then,"  cried  Franz,  "  it  is  hashish  !  I  know  that  —  by 
name  at  least." 


ITALY:    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  419 

"  That  is  it  precisely,  Signer  Aladdin ;  it  is  hashish, 
—  the  best  and  purest  hashish  of  Alexandria ;  the  hashish 
of  Abou-Gor,  the  celebrated  maker,  the  unique  man,  the 
man  to  whom  there  should  be  built  a  palace  inscribed  with 
these  words,  *  A  grateful  world  to  the  dealer  in  happiness.' " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Franz,  "  I  have  a  very  great  in- 
clination to  judge  for  myself  of  the  truth  or  exaggeration 
of  your  eulogies." 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  Signor  Aladdin ;  judge,  but  do  not 
confine  yourself  to  one  trial.  As  in  everything  else,  we 
must  habituate  the  senses  to  any  new  impression,  gentle 
or  violent,  sad  or  joyous.  There  is  a  struggle  in  nature 
against  this  divine  substance,  —  in  nature,  which  is  not 
made  for  joy,  and  clings  to  pain.  Nature,  subdued,  must 
yield  in  the  combat ;  reality  must  succeed  to  the  dream ; 
and  then  the  dream  reigns  supreme.  Then  the  dream  be- 
comes life,  and  life  becomes  the  dream.  But  what  a  change 
is  wrought  by  that  transfiguration,  on  comparing  the  pains 
of  actual  being  with  the  joys  of  the  fictitious  existence ! 
you  desire  to  live  no  longer,  but  to  dream  thus  forever. 
"When  you  return  to  this  mundane  spliere  from  your  vis- 
ionary world,  you  seem  to  leave  a  Neapolitan  spring  for  a 
Lapland  winter,  —  to  quit  paradise  for  earth,  heaven  for 
hell !  Taste  the  hashish,  guest  of  mine,  —  taste  the 
hashish !  " 

Franz's  only  reply  was  to  take  a  teaspoonful  of  the  mar- 
vellous preparation,  about  as  much  in  quantity  as  his  host 
had  eaten,  and  lift  it  to  bis  mouth.  "  The  devil !  "  he 
said  after  having  swallowed  the  divine  confection,  "  I  do 
not  know  if  the  result  wiU  be  as  agreeable  as  you  describe, 
but  the  thing  does  not  appear  to  me  as  succulent  as  you 
say." 

"  Because  your  palate  has  not  yet  attained  the  sublimity 
of  the  substance  it  tastes.     Tell  me,  the  first  time  you 


420  THE   COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

tasted  oysters,  tea,  porter,  truffles,  and  sundry  other 
dainties  which  you  now  adore,  did  you  like  them  1  Caa 
you  comprehend  how  the  Romans  stuffed  their  pheasants 
with  assafoetida,  and  the  Chinese  eat  swallows'  nests  1  Eh, 
no !  "Well,  it  is  the  same  with  hashish ;  only  eat  for  a 
week,  and  nothing  in  the  world  will  seem  to  you  to  equal 
the  delicacy  of  its  flavor,  which  now  appears  to  you  taste- 
less and  nauseating.  Let  lis  now  go  into  the  side-chamber, 
—  that  is,  into  your  chamber,  —  and  Ali  will  bring  us  coffee 
and  pipes." 

They  both  arose,  and  while  he  who  called  himself  Sin- 
bad  —  and  whom  we  have  occasionally  so  named,  that  we 
might  like  his  guest  have  some  title  by  which  to  dis- 
tinguish him  —  gave  some  orders  to  the  servant,  Franz 
entered  the  adjoining  chamber.  It  was  simply  yet  richly 
furnished.  It  was  round,  and  a  large  divan  completely 
encircled  it.  Divan,  walls,  ceiling,  floor,  were  all  covered 
with  magnificent  skins,  as  soft  and  downy  as  the  richest 
carpets ;  there  were  skins  of  the  lions  of  Atlas,  with  their 
large  manes ;  skins  of  the  Bengal  tigers,  with  their  striped 
hides ;  skins  of  the  panthers  of  the  Cape,  spotted  beauti- 
fully like  those  that  appeared  to  Dante  ;  skins  of  the 
bears  of  Siberia,  and  of  the  foxes  of  Norway  ;  and  all  these 
skins  were  strewn  in  profusion  one  on  the  other,  so  that  it 
seemed  like  walking  over  the  most  mossy  turf,  or  reclining 
on  the  most  luxurious  bed.  Both  laid  themselves  down 
on  the  divan  ;  chibouques  with  jasmine  tubes  and  amber 
mouthpieces  were  within  reach,  and  all  prepared  so  that 
there  was  no  need  to  smoke  the  same  pipe  twice.  Each 
of  them  took  one,  which  Ali  lighted ;  Ali  then  retired  to 
prepare  tlie  coffee.  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during 
which  Sinbad  gave  himself  up  to  thoughts  that  seemed  to 
occupy  him  incessantly,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  conversa- 
tion ;  and  Franz  abandoned  himself  to  that  mute  revery 


ITALY  :    SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR.  421 

into  wliich  we  always  sink  when  smoking  excellent  tobacco, 
which  seems  to  remove  with  its  smoke  all  the  troubles 
of  the  mind,  and  to  give  the  smoker  in  exchange  all  the 
visions  of  the  soul. 

Ali  brought  in  the  coffee. 

"  How  do  you  take  it  1 "  inquired  the  unknown  ;  "  cl  la 
francaise  or  d,  la  turque,  strong  or  weak,  with  sugar  or 
without,  cool  or  boiling  ]  As  you  please ;  it  is  ready  in 
aU  ways." 

"  I  will  take  it  h  la  turque"  replied  Franz. 

"And  you  are  right,"  said  bis  host;  "it  shows  you 
have  a  taste  for  Oriental  life.  Ah  !  those  Orientals,  —  they 
are  the  only  men  who  know  how  to  live.  As  for  me," 
he  added  with  one  of  those  singular  smiles  which  did  not 
escape  the  young  man,  "  when  I  have  completed  my  af- 
fairs in  Paris,  I  shall  go  and  die  in  the  East ;  and  should 
you  wish  to  see  me  again,  you  must  seek  liie  at  Cairo, 
Bagdad,  or  Ispahan." 

"  Ma  foil"  said  Franz,  "  it  would  be  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world,  —  for  I  feel  eagle's  wings  springing  out  at  my 
shoulders,  and  with  these  wings  I  could  make  a  tour  of  the 
world  in  four  and  twenty  hours." 

**  Ah,  ah !  it  is  the  hashish  that  is  operating.  Well, 
unfurl  your  wings,  and  fly  into  superhuman  regions.  Fear 
nothing,  — there  is  a  watch  over  you  ;  and  if  your  wings, 
like  those  of  Icarus,  melt  before  the  sun,  we  are  here  to 
receive  you." 

He  then  said  some  Arabian  words  to  Ali,  who  made  a 
sign  of  obedience  and  witlidrew,  but  remained  near.  As 
to  Franz,  a  strange  transformation  liad  taken  place  in  him. 
All  the  bodily  fatigue  of  the  day,  all  the  preoccupation  of 
mind  which  the  events  of  the  evening  had  brought  on, 
disappeared,  as  they  do  in  the  early  moments  of  repose, 
when  we  are  still  sufficiently  conscious  to  be  aware  of  the 


422  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

coming  of  slumber.  His  body  seemed  to  acquire  an  airy 
lightness  ;  his  perception  brightened  in  a  remarkable  man- 
ner ;  his  senses  seemed  to  redouble  their  power.  The  hori- 
zon continued  to  expand ;  it  was  not  that  gloomy  horizon 
over  which  hovers  a  vague  terror,  and  which  he  had  seen 
before  he  slept,  but  a  blue,  transparent,  unbounded  hori- 
zon, with  all  the  blue  of  the  ocean,  all  th  ■  spangles  of  the 
sun,  all  the  perfumes  of  the  summer  breeze.  Then,  in  the 
midst  of  the  songs  of  his  sailors,  —  songs  so  clear  and 
sounding  that  they  would  have  made  a  divine  harmony 
had  their  notes  been  taken  down,  —  he  saw  the  island  of 
Monte  Cristo,  no  longer  as  a  threatening  rock  in  the  midst 
of  the  waves,  but  as  an  oasis  lost  in  the  desert.  Then,  as 
the  boat  approached,  the  songs  became  louder,  —  for  an  en- 
chanting and  mysterious  harmony  rose  to  heaven  from  this 
island,  as  if  some  fay-like  Loreley  or  some  enchanter  like 
Amphion  had  wished  to  attract  thither  a  soul  or  build 
there  a  city. 

At  length  the  boat  touched  the  shore,  but  without  ef- 
fort, without  shock,  as  lips  touch  lips ;  and  he  entered  the 
grotto  amid  continued  strains  of  most  delicious  melody. 
He  descended,  or  rather  seemed  to  descend,  several  steps, 
inhaling  the  fresh  and  balmy  air,  like  that  which  may  be 
supposed  to  reign  around  the  grotto  of  Circe,  formed  from 
such  perfumes  as  set  the  mind  a-dreaming,  and  such  fires 
as  burn  the  very  senses  ;  and  he  saw  again  all  he  had  seen 
before  his  sleep,  from  Sinbud,  his  singular  host,  to  Ali, 
the  mute  attendant.  Then  all  seemed  to  fade  away  and 
become  confused  before  his  eyes,  like  tlie  last  shadows  of 
the  magic  lantern  before  it  is  extinguished ;  and  he  was 
again  in  the  chamber  of  statues,  lighted  only  by  one  of 
those  pale  and  antique  lamps  which  watch  in  the  dead  of 
the  night  over  sleep  or  pk-asure.  They  were  the  same 
statues,  rich  in  form,  in  attraction,  and  poesy,  with  eyes 


ITALY:    SINBAD  THE  SAILOR.  423 

of  fascination,  smiles  of  love,  and  flowing  hair.  They 
were  Phryne,  Cleopatra,  Messalina,  those  three  celebrated 
courtesans.  Then  among  them  glided  like  a  pure  ray, 
like  a  Christian  angel  in  the  midst  of  Olympus,  a  chaste 
figure,  a  calm  shadow,  a  soft  vision,  which  seemed  to  veil 
its  virgin  brow  before  these  marble  wantons.  Then  these 
three  statues  advanced  towards  him  with  looks  of  love, 
and  approached  the  couch  on  which  he  was  reposing,  — 
their  feet  hidden  in  their  long  tunics,  their  throats  bare, 
hair  flowing  like  waves,  and  assuming  attitudes  which  the 
gods  could  not  resist,  but  which  saints  withstood,  and  looks 
inflexible  and  ardent  like  the  serpent's  on  the  bird ;  and 
then  he  gave  way  before  these  looks,  as  painful  as  a  power- 
ful grasp  and  as  delightful  as  a  kiss.  It  seemed  to  Fianz 
that  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  that  in  his  last  look  around  he 
saw  the  modest  statue  completely  veiled ;  and  then  his  eyes 
being  closed  to  all  reality,  his  senses  were  opened  to  re- 
ceive strange  impressions. 


424  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER    XXXIL 

THE   WAKING. 

When  Franz  returned  to  himself  exterior  objects  seemed 
a  second  portion  of  his  dream.  He  thought  himself  in  a 
sepulchre  into  which  scarcely  penetrated,  like  a  look  of 
pity,  a  ray  of  the  sun.  He  stretched  forth  his  hand  and 
touched  stone;  he  rose  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  found 
himself  on  his  burnoose  in  a  bed  of  dry  heather,  very  soft 
and  odoriferous.  The  vision  had  entirely  fled ;  and  as  if 
the  statues  had  been  but  shadows  coming  from  their  tomb 
during  his  dream,  they  had  vanished  at  his  waking.  He 
advanced  several  paces  towards  the  point  whence  the  light 
came,  and  to  all  the  excitement  of  his  dream  succeeded 
the  calmness  of  reality.  He  found  that  he  was  in  a  grotto, 
went  towards  the  opening,  and  through  an  arched  door- 
way saw  a  blue  sea  and  an  azure  sky.  The  air  and  water 
were  shining  in  the  beams  of  the  morning  sun  ;  on  the  shore 
the  sailors  were  sitting,  chatting  and  laughing ;  and  at  ten 
yards  from  them  the  boat  was  gracefully  riding  at  anchor. 
There  for  some  time  he  enjoyed  the  fresh  breeze  which 
played  on  his  brow,  and  listened  to  the  gentle  noise  of  the 
waves,  which  came  up  on  the  beach  and  left  on  the  rocks 
a  lace  of  foam  as  white  as  silver.  He  abandoned  himself 
for  some  time  without  reflection  or  thought  to  the  divine 
charm  which  is  in  the  things  of  Nature,  especially  after  a 
fantastic  dream  ;  then  gradually  this  outward  life,  so  calm, 
so  pure,  so  grand,  showed  him  the  unrealit)"-  of  his  dream, 
and  remembrances  be^an  to  return  to  him.     He  recalled 


THE  WAKING.  425 

Lis  arrival  on  the  island,  his  presentation  to  a  smuggler 
chief,  a  subterranean  palace  full  of  splendor,  an  excellent 
supper,  and  a  spoonful  of  hashish.  It  seemed  however, 
even  in  the  face  of  open  day,  that  at  least  a  year  had 
elapsed  since  all  these  things  had  happened,  so  deep  was 
the  impression  made  in  his  mind  by  the  dream,  and  so 
strong  a  hold  had  it  taken  of  his  imagination.  Thus 
every  now  and  then  his  fancy  placed  amid  the  sailors, 
seated  on  a  rock,  or  saw  on  the  boat,  moving  with  its 
motion,  one  of  those  shadows  which  had  shared  his 
dreams  with  their  looks  and  their  kisses.  Otherwise,  his 
head  was  perfectly  clear  and  his  body  completely  rested. 
There  was  no  dulness  in  his  brain  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
felt  a  certain  degree  of  lightness,  a  faculty  of  absorbing 
the  pure  air  and  enjoying  the  bright  sunshine  more  viv- 
idly than  ever. 

He  went  gayly  up  to  the  sailors,  who  rose  as  soon  as 
they  perceived  him  ;  and  the  captain,  accosting  him,  said, 
**  The  Signer  Siubad  has  left  his  compliments  for  your 
Excellency,  and  desires  us  to  express  the  regret  he  feels 
at  not  being  able  to  take  his  leave  in  person ;  but  he 
trusts  you  will  excuse  him,  as  very  important  business 
calls  him  to  IMalaga." 

"  So  then,  Gaetano,"  said  Franz,  "  this  is,  then,  all 
reality ;  there  exists  a  man  who  has  received  me  on  this 
island,  entertained  me  right  royally,  and  has  departed 
while  I  was  asleep  1 " 

"  He  exists  so  really  that  you  may  see  his  little  yacht 
with  all  her  sails  spread  ;  and  if  you  will  use  your  glass, 
you  will  in  all  probability  recognize  your  host  in  the 
midst  of  his  crew." 

So  saying,  Gaetano  pointed  in  a  direction  in  which  a 
small  vessel  was  making  sail  towards  the  southern  point 
of  Corsica.     Franz  adjusted  his  telescope  and  directed  it 


426  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 

towards  the  place  indicated.  Gaetano  was  not  mistaken. 
At  the  stern  the  mysterious  stranger  was  standing  up, 
looking  towards  the  shore,  and  holding  a  spy-glass  in  his 
hand.  He  was  attired  as  he  had  been  on  the  previous 
evening,  and  waved  his  pocket-handkerchief  to  his  guest 
in  token  of  adieu.  Franz  returned  the  salute  by  shaking 
his  handkerchief  in  like  manner.  After  a  second  a  slight 
cloud  of  smoke  was  seen  at  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  which 
rose  gracefully  as  it  expanded  in  the  air,  and  then  Franz 
heard  a  light  report.  "  There,  do  you  hear  1 "  observed 
Gaetano;  "he  is  bidding  you  adieu."  The  young  man 
took  his  carbine  and  fired  it  in  the  air,  but  without  any 
idea  that  the  noise  could  be  heard  at  the  distance  which 
separated  the  yacht  from  the  shore. 

"  What  are  your  Excellency's  orders  1  "  inquired 
Gaetano. 

"  In  the  first  place,  light  me  a  torch." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  understand,"  replied  the  captain;  "to  find 
the  entrance  to  the  enchanted  apartment.  With  much 
pleasure,  your  Excellency,  if  it  would  amuse  you ;  and  I 
will  get  you  the  torch  you  ask  for.  I  too  have  had 
the  idea  you  have,  and  two  or  three  times  the  same  fancy 
has  come  over  me ;  but  I  have  always  given  it  up.  Gio- 
vanni, light  a  torch,"  he  added,  "  and  give  it  to  his 
Excellency." 

Giovanni  obeyed.  Franz  took  the  lamp  and  entered 
the  subterranean  grotto,  followed  by  Gaetano.  He  recog- 
nized the  place  where  he  had  slept  by  the  bed  of  heather 
that  was  there ;  but  it  was  in  vain  that  he  carried  his 
torch  all  over  the  exterior  surface  of  the  grotto.  He  saw 
nothing  except,  by  traces  of  smoke,  that  others  had  before 
him  attempted  the  same  thing,  and  like  him,  in  vain. 
Yet  he  did  not  leave  a  foot  of  this  granite  wall,  as  impen- 
etrable as  futurity,  without  strict  scrutiny ;  he  did  not  see 


THE  WAKING.  427 

a  fissure  •without  introducing  the  hlade  of  his  hunting- 
sword  into  it,  nor  a  projecting  point  on  which  he  did  not 
lean  and  press,  in  the  hope  that  it  would  give  way.  All 
was  vain ;  and  he  lost  two  hours  in  that  examination 
without  results.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he  gave  up  his 
research ;  Gaetano  was  triumphant. 

When  Franz  appeared  again  on  the  shore,  the  yacht 
seemed  like  a  small  white  speck  on  the  horizon.  He 
looked  again  through  his  glass,  but  even  then  he  could 
not  distinguish  anything.  Gaetano  reminded  him  that  he 
had  come  for  the  purpose  of  shooting  goats,  —  which  he 
had  utterly  forgotten.  He  took  his  fowling-piece  and 
began  to  hunt  over  the  island  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
is  fulfilling  a  duty  rather  than  enjoying  a  pleasure ;  and 
at  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  killed  a  goat  and 
two  kids.  These  animals,  though  wild  and  agile  as  cha- 
mois, were  too  much  like  domestic  goats,  and  Franz  could 
not  consider  them  as  game.  Moreover,  other  ideas,  much 
more  powerful,  occupied  his  mind.  Since  the  evening  be- 
fore, he  had  really  been  the  hero  of  one  of  the  tales  of  the 
"  Thousand  and  One  Nights,"  and  he  was  irresistibly  at- 
tracted towards  the  grotto.  Then,  in  spite  of  the  failure 
of  his  first  search,  he  began  a  second,  after  having  told 
Gaetano  to  roast  one  of  the  two  kids.  The  second  visit  was 
a  long  one,  and  when  he  returned  the  kid  was  roasted  and 
the  repast  ready.  Franz  was  sitting  on  the  spot  where  he 
was  on  the  previous  evening  when  his  mysterious  host  had 
invited  him  to  supper ;  and  he  saw  the  little  yacht,  now 
like  a  sea-gull  on  the  wave,  continuing  her  flight  towards 
Corsica.  "  Why,"  he  remarked  to  Gaetano,  "  you  told  me 
that  Signer  Sinbad  was  going  to  Malaga  ;  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  he  is  going  straight  to  Porto  Vecchio." 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  told  you 
that  among  the  crew  there  were  two  Corsican  brigands  1 " 


/ 


428  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  True  !  and  he  is  going  to  land  them  1 "  added  Franz. 

"Precisely  so,"  replied  Gaetano.  "Ah  !  he  is  a  man 
who  fears  neither  God  nor  Devil,  they  say,  and  would  at 
any  time  run  fifty  leagues  out  of  his  course  to  do  a  poor 
devil  a  service." 

"  But  such  services  as  these  might  involve  him  with 
the  authorities  of  the  country  in  which  he  practises  this 
kind  of  philanthropy,"  said  Franz. 

"Ah,  well,"  replied  Gaetano,  with  a  laugh,  "what  does 
he  care  for  the  authorities?  He  smiles  at  them.  Let 
them  try  to  pursue  him  !  why,  in  the  first  place,  his  yacht 
is  not  a  ship  but  a  bird,  and  he  would  beat  any  frigate 
three  knots  in  every  twelve  ;  and  if  he  were  to  throw 
himself  on  the  coast,  why,  is  n't  he  certain  of  finding 
friends  everywhere  1 " 

It  was  evident  from  all  this  that  the  Signor  Sinbad, 
Franz's  host,  had  the  honor  of  being  on  excellent  terms 
with  the  smugglers  and  bandits  along  the  whole  coast  of 
the  Mediterranean,  —  which  placed  him  in  a  position  sin- 
gular enough.  As  to  Franz,  he  had  no  longer  any  induce- 
ment to  remain  at  Monto  Cristo.  He  had  lost  all  hope 
of  detecting  the  secret  of  the  grotto.  He  consequently 
despatched  his  breakfast,  and  his  boat  being  ready,  he 
hastened  on  board,  and  they  were  soon  under  way.  At 
the  moment  the  boat  began  her  course  they  lost  sight  of 
the  yacht,  as  it  disappeared  in  the  gulf  of  Porto  Vecchio. 
■\Vith  it  was  effaced  the  last  trace  of  the  preceding  night ; 
supper,  Sinbad,  hashish,  statues, —  all  became  burietl  in  the 
same  dream.  The  boat  went  on  all  day  and  all  night, 
and  next  morning  when  the  sun  rose,  they  had  lost  sight 
of  Monte  Cristo.  When  Franz  had  once  again  set  foot 
on  shore,  he  forgot,  for  the  moment  at  least,  the  events 
which  had  just  passed,  while  he  finished  his  affairs  of 
pleasure  at  Florence,  and  then  thought  of  nothing  but 


THE  WAKING.  429 

how  he  should  rejoin  his  companion,  who  was  awaiting 
him  at  Eome.  He  set  out  therefore,  and  on  the  Saturday 
evening  reached  the  Place  de  la  Douane  by  the  malle- 
poste.  Apartments,  as  we  have  said,  had  been  retained 
beforehand,  and  thus  he  had  but  to  go  to  the  hotel  of 
Maitre  Pastrini.  But  this  was  not  so  easy  a  matter,  for 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  people,  and  Eome  was 
already  a  prey  to  that  low  and  feverish  murmur  which 
precedes  all  great  events.  At  Rome  there  are  four  great 
events  in  every  year,  —  the  Carnival,  the  Holy  Week,  the 
Fete  Dieu,  and  the  St.  Peter.  All  the  rest  of  the  year 
the  city  is  in  that  state  of  dull  apathy,  between  life  and 
death,  which  renders  it  similar  to  a  kind  of  station  between 
this  world  and  the  next,  —  a  sublime  spot,  a  resting-place 
full  of  poetry  and  character,  at  whicli  Franz  had  already 
halted  tive  or  six  times,  and  at  each  time  found  it  more 
marvellous  and  striking.  At  last  he  made  his  way  through 
this  mob,  which  was  continually  increasing  and  becoming 
more  agitated,  and  reached  the  hotel  On  his  first  inquiry 
he  was  told,  with  the  impertinence  peculiar  to  coachmen 
who  have  plenty  of  employment,  and  innkeepers  whose 
houses  are  filled,  that  there  was  no  room  for  him  at  the 
Hotel  de  Londres.  Then  he  sent  his  card  to  Maitre  Pas- 
trini, and  demanded  Albert  de  Morcerf.  This  plan  suc- 
ceeded :  and  Maitre  Pastrini  himself  ran  to  him,  excusiner 
himself  for  having  made  his  Excellency  wait,  scolding  the 
waiters,  taking  the  candlestick  in  his  hand  from  the  cicerone, 
who  was  ready  to  pounce  on  the  traveller,  and  was  about 
to  lead  him  to  Albert,  when  Morcerf  himself  appeared. 

The  apartments  consisted  of  two  small  rooms  and  a 
closet.  The  two  rooms  looked  on  to  the  street,  —  a  fact 
which  Maitre  Pastrini  commented  upon  as  an  inappreciable 
advantage.  The  remainder  of  the  story  was  hired  by  a 
very  rich  gentleman,  who  was  supposed  to  be  a  Sicilian  or 


430  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Maltese ;  but  the  host  was  unable  to  decide  to  which  of 
the  two  nations  the  traveller  belonged. 

"  Very  good,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  said  Franz ;  '  but  we 
must  have  some  supper  instantly,  and  a  carriage  for 
'  to-morrow  and  the  following  days." 

"As  to  supper,"  replied  the  landlord,  "you  shall  be 
served  immediately  ;   but  as  for  the  carriage  —  " 

"What  as  to  the  carriage?"  exclaimed  Albert.  "Come, 
come,  Maitre  Pastrini,  no  joking ;  we  must  have  a  carriage." 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  the  host,  "  we  will  do  all  in  our 
power  to  procure  you  one  ;  that  is  all  I  can  say." 

"  And  when  shall  we  know  1 "  inquired  Franz. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  answered  the  innkeeper. 

"  Oh,  the  devil !  "  said  Albert,  "  then  we  shall  pay  the 
more,  that 's  all ;  I  see  plainly  enough.  At  Drake  and 
Aaron's  one  pays  twenty-five  livres  for  common  days,  and 
thirty  or  thirty-five  livres  for  Sundays  and  fetes  ;  add  five 
livres  for  extras,  —  that  will  make  forty,  —  and  there 's  an 
end  of  it." 

"  I  fear,"  said  the  landlord,  "  that  those  gentlemen, 
even  if  you  offer  them  twice  that  amount,  will  not  be  able 
to  procure  you  a  carriage." 

"  Then  they  must  put  horses  to  mine,"  said  Albert. 
"  It  is  a  little  worse  for  the  journey,  but  that 's  no  matter." 

"  There  are  no  horses." 

Albert  looked  at  Franz  like  a  man  who  hears  a  reply  he 
does  not  understand.  "  Do  you  understand  that,  my  dear 
Franz  1  —  no  horses  !  "  he  said  ;  "  but  can't  we  have  post- 
horses  1 " 

"  They  have  been  all  hired  this  fortnight,  and  there  are 
none  left  but  those  absolutely  necessary  to  the  service." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that  1 "  asked  Franz. 

"  I  say  that  when  a  thing  completely  surpasses  my 
comprehension,  I   am  accustomed  not  to   dwell  on  that 


THE  WAKING.  431 

thing,  but  to  pass  to  another.  Is  supper  ready,  Maitre 
Pastrini  ] " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency." 

«  Well,  then,  let  us  sup." 

"  But  the  carriage  and  horses  ?  "  said  Franz. 

"  Be  easy,  my  dear  boy ;  they  will  come  in  due  season. 
It  is  only  a  question  of  how  much  shall  be  charged  for 
them." 

Morcerf  then,  with  that  admirable  philosophy  which 
believes  that  nothing  is  impossible  to  a  full  purse  or  a 
well-lined  pocket-book,  supped,  went  to  bed,  slept  soundly, 
and  dreamed  that  he  rode  through  the  Carnival  in  a  coach 
with  six  horses. 


432  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 


ROMAN    BANDITS. 


The  next  morning  Franz  woke  first,  and  instantly  rang 
the  bell.  The  sound  had  not  yet  died  away  when  Maitre 
Pastrini  himself  entered. 

"  Well,  Excellency,"  said  the  landlord,  triumphantly, 
and  without  waiting  for  Franz  to  question  him,  "  I  feared 
yesterday,  when  I  would  not  promise  you  anything,  that 
you  were  too  late ;  there  is  not  a  single  carriage  to  be  had 
—  that  is,  for  the  last  three  days." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Franz ;  "  that  is,  for  those  on  which  it 
is  absolutely  necessary." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ] "  said  Albert,  entering ;  "  no  car- 
riage to  be  had  1 " 

"  Precisely,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Franz ;  "  you  have 
hit  it  the  first  time." 

*'  WeU  !  your  Eternal  City  is  a  devilish  nice  city." 
"  That  is  to  say,  Excellency,"  replied  Pastrini,  who  was 
desirous  to  keep  up  the  dignity  of  the  capital  of  the  Chris- 
tian world  in  the  eyes  of  his  guest,  "there  are  no  carriages 
to  be  had  from  Sunday  to  Tuesday  evening,  but  from  now 
till  Sunday  you  can  have  fifty  if  you  please." 

"  Ah !  that  is  something,"  said  Albert ;  "  to-day  is 
Thursday,  and  w^ho  knows  what  may  arrive  between 
this  and  Sunday  1 " 

"■  Ten  or  twelve  thousand  travellers  will  arrive,"  replied 
Franz,  "  which  will  make  it  still  more  difficult." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Morcerf,  "  let  us  enjoy  the  present 
without  gloomy  forebodings." 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  433 

"  At  least,"  asked  Franz,  "  we  can  have  a  window  ]  " 

"Where?" 

"  Looking  on  the  Rue  du  Cours,  to  be  sure." 

"Ah,  a  window!"  exclaimed  Maitre  Pastrini, — "utterly 
impossible  ;  there  was  only  one  left  on  the  fifth  floor  of  the 
Doria  Palace,  and  that  has  been  let  to  a  Russian  prince  for 
twenty  sequins  a  day." 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  each  other  with  an  air 
of  stupefaction. 

"  "Well,"  said  Franz  to  Albert,  "  do  you  know  what  is 
the  best  thing  we  can  do  1  It  is  to  pass  the  Carnival  at 
Venice ;  there  we  are  sure  of  obtaining  gondolas  if  we 
cannot  have  carriages." 

"  Ah,  the  devil !  no,"  cried  Albert ;  "  I  came  to  Rome 
to  see  the  Carnival,  and  I  will,  though  I  see  it  on  stilts." 

"  Bravo  !  an  excellent  idea !  We  will  disguise  ourselves 
as  monster  Punchinellos  or  shepherds  of  the  Landes,  and 
we  shall  have  complete  success." 

"Do  your  Excellencies  still  wish  for  a  carriage  from 
now  to  Sunday  morning  1" 

"  Parbleu  !  "  said  Albert,  "  do  you  think  we  are  going 
to  run  about  on  foot  in  the  streets  of  Rome  like  law- 
yers' clerks  ] " 

"  I  hasten  to  comply  with  your  Excellencies'  wishes ; 
only  I  tell  you  beforehand  the  carriage  will  cost  you  six 
piastres  a  day." 

"And  as  I  am  not  a  millionnaire  like  our  neighbor," 
said  Franz,  "  I  warn  you  that  as  I  have  been  four  times 
before  at  Rome,  I  know  the  prices  of  all  the  carriages. 
We  will  give  you  twelve  piastres  for  to-day,  to-morrow, 
and  the  day  after,  and  then  you  will  make  a  good  profit." 

"  But,  Excellency  —  "  said  Pastrini,  still  striving  to  gain 

his  point. 

"  Now  go,"  returned  Franz,  "  or  I  shall  go  myself  and 
VOL.  I.  — 28 


434  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

bargain  "with  your  affettatore,  who  is  mine  also.  He  is  an 
old  friend  of  mine,  who  has  plundered  me  pretty  well 
already ;  and  in  the  hope  of  making  more  out  of  me  he 
will  fix  upon  a  price  smaller  than  1  am  now  offering 
you.  You  will  then  lose  the  difference,  and  that  will 
be  your  fault." 

"  Do  not  give  yourself  the  trouble.  Excellency,"  re- 
turned Maitre  Pastrini,  with  that  smile  of  the  Italian 
speculator  who  avows  himself  defeated ;  "  I  will  do  all 
I  can,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  satisfied." 

"And  now  we  understand  each  other." 

"When  do  you  wish  the  carriage  to  be  herel" 

"In  an  hour." 

"In  an  hour  it  will  be  at  the  door." 

An  hour  later,  the  carriage  was  in  fact  awaiting  the 
two  young  men.  It  was  a  modest  fiacre,  which  was  ele- 
vated to  the  rank  of  a  private  carriage  in  honor  of  the 
occasion ;  but  in  spite  of  its  humble  extei-ior,  the  young 
men  would  have  thought  themselves  happy  had  they  been 
able  to  procure  such  a  carriage  for  the  last  three  days  of 
the  Carnival. 

"Excellency,"  cried  the  cicerone,  seeing  Eranz  ap- 
proach the  window,  "shall  I  bring  the  carriage  nearer 
to  the  palace  1  " 

Accustomed  as  Franz  was  to  the  Italian  phraseology, 
his  first  impulse  was  to  look  round  him,  but  these  words 
were  addressed  to  him.  Eranz  was  the  "Excellency," 
the  vehicle  was  the  "  carriage,"  and  the  Hotel  de  Londres 
was  the  "  palace."  The  laudatory  habit  of  the  people  was 
well  exhibited  in  that  single  sentence. 

Eranz  and  Albert  descended ;  the  carriage  approached 
the  palace  ;  their  Excellencies  stretched  their  legs  along  the 
seats  ;  the  cicerone  sprang  into  the  seat  behind.  "  Where 
do  your  Excellencies  wish  to  go  ?  "  asked  he. 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  436 

"To  St.  Peter's  first,  and  then  to  the  Colosseum,"  re- 
turned Albert. 

But  Albert  did  not  know  that  it  takes  a  day  to  see 
St.  Peter's,  and  a  month  to  study  it.  The  day  was  passed 
at  St.  Peter's  alone.  Suddenly  the  daylight  began  to 
fade  away.  Franz  took  out  his  watch ;  it  was  half-past 
four.  They  returned  to  the  hotel ;  at  the  door  Franz  or- 
dered the  coachman  to  be  ready  at  eight.  He  wished  to 
show  Albert  the  Colosseum  by  moonlight,  as  he  had  shown 
him  St.  Peter's  by  daylight.  When  we  show  to  a  friend 
a  city  we  have  already  visited,  we  feel  the  same  pride  as 
when  we  point  out  a  woman  whose  lover  we  have  been. 
He  was  to  leave  the  city  by  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  skirt 
the  outer  wall,  and  re-enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni ; 
thus  they  would  behold  the  Colosseum  without  being  in 
some  measure  prepared  by  the  sight  of  the  Capitol,  the 
Forum,  the  Arch  of  Septimius  Severus,  the  Temple  of 
Antoninus  and  Faustina,  and  the  Via  Sacra. 

They  sat  down  to  dinner.  Maitre  Pastrini  had  prom- 
ised them  a  banquet;  he  gave  them  a  tolerable  repast. 
At  the  end  of  the  dinner  he  entered  in  person.  Franz 
concluded  he  came  to  hear  his  dinner  praised,  and  began 
accordingly;  but  at  the  first  words  the  landlord  inter- 
rupted him.  "  Excellency,"  said  he,  "  I  am  delighted  to 
have  your  approbation  ;  but  it  was  not  for  that  I  came." 

"  Did  you  come  to  tell  us  you  have  procured  a  carriage  1 " 
asked  Albert,  lighting  his  cigar. 

"  No  ;  and  your  Excellencies  will  do  well  not  to  think 
of  that  any  longer.  At  Rome  things  can  or  cannot  be 
done ;  when  you  are  told  anything  cannot  be  done,  there 
is  an  end  of  it." 

"It  is  much  more  convenient  at  Paris,  —  when  anything 
cannot  be  done,  you  pay  double  and  it  is  done  directly." 

"That  is  what  all  the  French  say,"  returned  Maitre 


436  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Pastrini,  somewhat  piqued  ;  "for  that  reason  I  do  not  un- 
derstand why  they  travel." 

"But,"  said  Albert,  emitting  a  volume  of  smoke  and 
balancing  his  chair  on  its  hind  legs,  "  only  madmen,  or 
blockheads  such  as  we  are,  travel.  Men  in  their  senses 
do  not  quit  their  hotel  in  the  Rue  du  Helder,  their  walk 
on  the  Boulevard  de  Gand,  and  the  Cafe  de  Paris." 

It  is  of  course  understood  that  Albert  resided  in  the 
street  mentioned,  appeared  every  day  on  the  fashi  nable 
walk,  and  dined  frequently  at  the  only  cafe  where  you 
can  really  dine,  —  that  is,  if  you  are  on  good  terms  with 
the  waiters.  Maitre  Pastrini  remained  silent  a  short  time ; 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  musing  over  this  answer,  which 
did  not  seem  very  clear. 

"  But,"  said  Franz,  in  his  turn  interrupting  his  host's 
meditations,  "you  had  some  motive  for  coming  here;  may 
I  beg  to  know  what  it  was  %  " 

"Ah,  yes;  you  have  ordered  your  carriage  for  eight 
o'clock  % " 

"I  have." 

"  You  intend  visiting  il  Colosseo.'* 

"That  is  to  say,  le  Colisee?" 

"  It  is  the  same  thing.  You  have  told  your  coachman 
to  leave  the  city  by  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  to  drive  round 
the  walls,  and  re-enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni'?'* 

"  These  are  my  words  exactly." 

"  AYell,  this  route  is  impossible." 

"  Impossible !  " 

"  Yery  dangerous,  to  say  the  least." 

"  Dangerous  !  and  why  1  " 

"  On  account  of  the  famous  Luigi  Vampa." 

"  Pray  who  may  this  famous  Luigi  Vampa  be  1 "  in- 
quired Albert ;  "  he  may  be  very  famous  at  Rome,  but  I 
can  assure  you  he  is  quite  unknown  at  Paris." 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  437 

"  What !  do  you  not  know  him  1 " 

"  I  have  not  that  honor." 

"  You  have  never  heard  his  name  ] " 

"Never." 

"Well,  then,  he  is  a  bandit  compared  to  whom  the 
Decesaris  and  the  Gasparones  were  mere  children." 

"  Now,  then,  Albert,"  cried  Franz,  "  here  is  a  bandit 
for  you  at  last  !  " 

"  I  forewarn  you,  Maitre  Pastrini,  that  I  shall  not  be- 
lieve one  word  of  what  you  are  going  to  tell  us.  That 
point  being  settled  between  us,  you  may  say  all  you  wish ; 
I  will  listen.     Once  upon  a  time,  —  well,  go  ahead  !  " 

Maitre  Pastrini  turned  round  to  Franz,  who  seemed  to 
him  the  more  reasonable  of  the  two.  We  must  do  him 
justice  ;  he  had  had  a  great  many  Frenchmen  in  his  house, 
but  had  never  been  able  to  comprehend  them.  "  Excel- 
lency," said  he,  gravely,  addressing  Franz,  "if  you  look 
upon  me  as  a  liar,  it  is  useless  for  me  to  say  anything  ;  it 
was  for  your  interest  I  —  " 

"  Albert  does  not  say  you  are  a  liar,  Maitre  Pastrini," 
said  Franz  ;  "  he  says  he  will  not  believe  you,  —  that 's  all. 
But  I  will  believe  all  you  say ;  so  proceed." 

"  But  your  Excellency  well  understands  that  if  any  one 
doubts  my  veracity  —  " 

"  Maitre  Pastrini,"  returned  Franz,  "  you  are  more  sus- 
ceptible than  Cassandra,  who  was  a  prophetess,  and  yet 
no  one  believed  her,  while  you  at  least  are  sure  of  the 
credence  of  half  your  auditory.  Come,  make  an  effort, 
and  tell  us  who  this  M.  Vampa  is." 

"  I  have  told  your  Excellency ;  he  is  the  most  famous 
bandit  we  have  had  since  the  days  of  Mastrilla." 

"  Well,  what  has  this  bandit  to  do  with  the  order  I 
have  given  the  coachman  to  leave  the  city  by  the  Porta 
del  Popolo,  and  to  re-enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni  1 " 


438  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  This,"  replied  Maitre  Pastrini,  —  "  that  you  will  go  out 
by  one,  but  I  very  much  doubt  your  returning  by  the  other." 

"  Why  1 "  asked  Franz. 

"  Because  after  nightfall  you  are  not  safe  fifty  yards 
from  the  gates." 

"  On  your  honor,  is  that  true  1 "  cried  Albert. 

"Monsieur  the  Viscount,"  returned  Maitre  Pastrini, 
hurt  at  Albert's  repeated  doubts  of  the  truth  of  his  asser- 
tions, "  I  do  not  say  this  to  you,  but  to  your  companion, 
who  knows  Eome,  and  knows  too  that  these  things  are 
not  to  be  laughed  at." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Albert,  turning  to  Franz,  "here 
is  an  admirable  adventure  ;  we  will  fill  our  carriage  with 
pistols,  blunderbusses,  and  double-barrelled  guns.  Luigi 
Vampa  comes  to  take  us,  and  we  take  him  ;  we  bring  him 
back  to  Rome  and  present  him  to  his  Holiness  the  Pope, 
who  asks  how  he  can  recompense  so  great  a  service ;  then 
we  merely  ask  for  a  carriage  and  a  pair  of  horses,  and  we 
see  the  Carnival  in  a  carriage,  and  doubtless  the  Roman 
people  will  crown  us  at  the  Capitol,  and  proclaim  us, 
like  Curtius  and  Horatius  Codes,  the  preservers  of  the 
country." 

While  Albert  proposed  this  scheme,  Maitre  Pastrini's 
face  assumed  an  expression  impossible  to  describe. 

"  And  pray,"  asked  Franz,  "  where  are  these  pistols, 
blunderbusses,  and  other  deadly  weapons  with  which  you 
intend  filling  the  carriage]" 

**  ]S"ot  in  my  armory,  for  at  Terracina  I  was  plundered 
even  of  my  hunting-knife." 

"  I  shared  the  same  fate  at  Aquapendente." 

"  Do  you  know,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  said  Albert,  lighting 
a  second  cigar  at  the  first,  "  that  this  practice  is  very  con- 
venient for  robbers,  and  that  it  has  the  appearance  of  a 
plan  for  sharing  with  them?" 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  439 

Doubtless  Maitre  Pastrini  found  this  pleasantry  com- 
promising, for  he  answered  only  half  the  question,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  Franz,  as  the  only  one  likely  to  listen 
with  attention  :  "  Your  Excellency  knows  that  it  is  not 
customary  to  offer  defence  when  attacked  by  bandits." 

"  What ! "  cried  Albert,  whose  courage  revolted  at  the  idea 
of  being  plundered  tamely,  "not  make  any  resistance  !" 

"  No,  for  it  would  be  useless.  What  can  you  do  against 
a  dozen  bandits  who  spring  out  of  some  pit,  ruin,  or  aque- 
duct, and  attack  you  all  at  once  1 " 

"  Eh,  parhleu  !  I  will  make  them  kill  me." 

The  innkeeper  turned  to  Franz  with  an  air  that  seemed 
to  say,  "  Your  friend  is  decidedly  mad." 

"My  dear  Albert,"  returned  Franz,  '-your  answer  is 
sublime,  and  worthy  the  '  Let  him  die,'  of  Corneille.  But 
when  Horace  made  that  answer  the  safety  of  Eome  was 
concerned,  while  here  there  is  only  the  question  of  grati- 
fying a  caprice ;  and  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  risk  our 
lives  for  a  caprice." 

"  Ah,  "per  Bacco  !  "  cried  Maitre  Pastrini,  **  that  is  good ! 
that  is  speaking  to  some  purpose  !  " 

Albert  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  lacryma  Christie 
which  he  sipped  at  intervals,  muttering  some  unintel- 
ligible words. 

"Well,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  said  Franz,  "now  that  my 
companion  is  quieted,  and  you  have  seen  how  peaceful  my 
intentions  are,  tell  me  who  is  this  Luigi  Vampa.  Is  he  a 
shepherd  or  a  nobleman ;  young  or  old ;  tall  or  short  ? 
Describe  him,  in  order  that  if  we  meet  him  by  chance, 
like  Jean  Sbogar  or  Lara,  we  may  recognize  him." 

"  You  could  not  apply  to  any  one  better  able  to  inform 
you  on  all  these  points ;  for  I  knew  him  when  he  was  a 
child,  and  one  day  when  I  fell  into  his  hands  going  from 
Ferentino  to  Alatri,  he,  fortunately  for  me,  recollected  me, 


440  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  not  only  set  me  free  without  ransom,  but  made  me 
a  present  of  a  very  splendid  watch,  and  related  his  history 
to  me." 

"  Let  us  see  the  watch,"  said  Albert. 

Maitre  Pastrini  drew  from  his  fob  a  magnificent  Bre- 
guet,  bearing  the  name  of  its  maker,  the  Parisian  stamp, 
and  a  count's  coronet. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  he. 

"  Peste  !  "  returned  Albert,  "  I  compliment  you  on  it ; 
I  have  its  fellow,"  —  he  took  his  watch  from  his  waist- 
coat pocket,  —  "  and  it  cost  me  three  thousand  livres." 

"  Let  us  hear  the  history,"  said  Franz,  drawing  up  an 
easy-chair  and  making  a  sign  to  Maitre  Pastrini  to  seat 
himself. 

"  Your  Excellencies  permit  it  1 "  asked  the  host. 

*'  Pardieu  I "  cried  Albert,  "  you  are  not  a  preacher,  to 
speak  standing !  " 

The  host  sat  down,  after  having  made  each  of  them  a 
respectful  bow,  which  meant  to  say  he  was  ready  to  tell 
them  all  they  wished  to  know  concerning  Luigi  Vampa. 
"You  tell  me,"  said  Franz,  at  the  moment  Maitre  Pastrini 
was  about  to  open  his  mouth,  "  that  you  knew  Luigi 
Vampa  when  he  was  a  child ;  he  is  still  a  young  man, 
then  1 " 

"  A  young  man  !  he  is  hardly  two  and  twenty.  Oh,  he  is 
a  rattling  blade,  who  will  have  a  career,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Albert,  —  at  two  and 
twenty  to  be  thus  famous  1  " 

"  Yes,  at  his  age  Alexander,  Caesar,  and  Napoleon,  who 
have  all  made  some  noise  in  the  world,  were  not  so 
advanced." 

"  So,"  continued  Franz,  "  the  hero  of  this  history  is 
only  two  and  twenty]" 

*'  Scarcely  so  much,  as  I  have  had  the  honor  to  tell  you." 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  441 

« Is  he  tall  or  short  1 " 

"  Of  the  middle  height,  —  about  the  same  stature  as 
his  Excellency,"  returned  the  host,  pointing  to  Albert. 

"Thanks  for  the  comparison,"  said  Albert,  with  a 
bow. 

"  Go  on,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  continued  Franz,  smiling  at 
his  friend's  susceptibility.  "  To  what  class  of  society  does 
he  belong  ] " 

"  He  was  a  shepherd-boy  attached  to  the  farm  of  the 
Comte  de  San  Felice,  situated  between  Palestrina  and  the 
Lake  of  Gabri.  He  was  born  at  Pampinara,  and  entered  the 
count's  service  when  he  was  five  years  old  ;  his  father  was 
also  a  shepherd,  who  owned  a  small  flock  and  lived  by  the 
wool  and  the  milk  which  he  sold  at  Rome.  When  quite  a 
child,  the  little  Yampa  was  of  a  most  extraordinary  disposi- 
tion. One  day,  when  he  was  seven  years  old,  he  came  to 
the  cure  of  Palestrina,  and  prayed  him  to  teach  him  to 
read.  It  was  somewhat  difficult,  for  he  could  not  quit  his 
flock ;  but  the  good  cure  went  every  day  to  say  mass  at  a 
little  hamlet  too  poor  to  pay  a  priest,  and  which  having 
no  other  name  was  called  Borgo.  He  told  Luigi  that  he 
might  meet  him  on  his  return,  and  that  then  he  would 
give  him  a  lesson,  warning  him  that  it  would  be  short,  and 
that  he  must  profit  as  much  as  possible  by  it.  The  child 
accepted  joyfully.  Every  day  Luigi  led  his  flock  to  graze 
on  the  road  that  leads  from  Palestrina  to  Borgo ;  every 
day,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  priest  and  the  boy 
sat  down  on  a  bank  by  the  wayside,  and  the  little  shep- 
herd took  his  lesson  out  of  the  priest's  breviary.  At  the 
end  of  three  months  he  had  learned  to  read.  This  was 
not  enough,  —  he  must  now  learn  to  write.  The  priest 
procured  from  a  teacher  of  writing  at  Rome  three  alphabets, 
—  one  in  large  letters,  one  in  letters  of  medium  size,  and 
one  in  small  letters,  —  and  showed  him  how  by  the  help 


442  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

of  a  sharp  instrument  he  could  trace  the  letters  on  a  slate, 
and  thus  learn  to  Avrite.  The  same  evening,  when  the 
floek  "Was  safe  at  the  farm,  the  little  Luigi  hastened  to  the 
smith  at  Palestrina,  took  a  large  nail,  forged  it,  sharpened 
it,  and  formed  a  sort  of  antique  stylus.  The  next  morning, 
having  collected  a  quantity  of  slates,  he  began  his  lessons. 
At  the  end  of  three  months  he  had  learned  to  write.  The 
cure,  astonished  at  his  quickness  and  intelligence,  made 
him  a  present  of  pens,  paper,  and  a  penknife.  This  in- 
volved new  studj'-,  but  nothing  compared  to  the  first ;  at 
the  end  of  a  week  he  wrote  as  well  with  the  pen  as 
with  the  stylus.  The  cure  related  this  anecdote  to  the 
Comte  de  San  Felice,  who  sent  for  the  little  shepherd,  made 
him  read  and  write  before  him,  ordered  his  attendant  to 
let  him  eat  with  the  domestics,  and  to  give  him  two 
piastres  a  month.  AVith  this  Luigi  purchased  books  and 
pencils.  He  applied  to  everything  his  imitative  powers, 
and  like  Giotto,  when  young,  he  drew  on  his  slate  sheep, 
houses,  and  trees.  Then,  with  his  knife,  he  began  to 
carve  all  sorts  of  objects  in  wood  ;  it  was  thus  that  Pinelli, 
the  famous  sculptor,  had  commenced. 

"  A  girl  of  six  or  seven  —  that  is,  a  little  younger  than 
Vampa  —  tended  sheep  on  a  farm  near  Palestrina ;  she 
tv'as  an  orphan,  born  at  Valmontone,  and  was  named 
Teresa.  The  two  children  met,  sat  down  near  each  other, 
let  their  flocks  mingle  together,  played,  laughed,  and  con- 
versed together ;  in  the  evening  they  separated  the  flock 
of  the  Comte  de  San  FeHce  from  those  of  the  Baron  de 
Cervetri,  and  the  children  returned  to  their  respective 
farms,  promising  to  meet  the  next  morning,  and  the  next 
day  they  kept  their  word.  Thus  they  grew,  side  by  side, 
■until  Vampa  was  twelve  and  Teresa  eleven.  Meantime, 
their  natural  dispositions  revealed  themselves.  While  he 
still  followed  his  inclination  for  the  fine  arts,  which  Luigi 


EOMAN  BANDITS.  443 

had  carried  as  far  as  he  could  in  his  solitude,  he  was  sad 
by  fits,  ardent  by  starts,  angry  by  caprice,  and  always  sar- 
castic. None  of  the  lads  of  Pampinara,  of  Palestrina,  or  of 
Yalmontone  had  been  able  to  gain  any  influence  over  him, 
or  even  to  become  his  companion.  His  disposition  (al- 
ways inclined  to  exact  concessions  rather  than  to  make 
them)  kept  him  aloof  from  all  friendships.  Teresa  alone 
ruled  by  a  look,  a  word,  a  gesture,  this  impetuous  character, 
which  was  pliant  under  the  hand  of  a  woman,  but  under 
the  liand  of  any  man  whatever  would  have  resisted  until 
it  broke. 

"  Teresa  was,  on  the  contrary,  lively  and  gay,  but  coquet- 
tish to  excess.  Tiie  two  piastres  that  Luigi  received  every 
month  from  the  Comte  de  San  Felice's  steward,  and  the 
price  of  all  the  little  carvings  in  wood  he  sold  at  Eome, 
were  expended  in  ear-rings,  necklaces,  and  gold  hair-pins ; 
so  that  thanks  to  her  friend's  generosity,  Teresa  was 
the  most  beautiful  and  the  best  attired  peasant  near 
Rome. 

"  The  two  children  continued  to  grow  up  together,  pass- 
ing aU  their  time  with  each  other,  and  giving  themselves 
up  to  the  wild  ideas  of  their  different  characters.  Thus 
in  all  their  dreams,  their  wishes,  and  their  conversations, 
Vampa  saw  himself  the  captain  of  a  vessel,  general  of  an 
army,  or  governor  of  a  province.  Teresa  saw  herself  rich, 
superbly  attired,  and  attended  by  a  train  of  liveried 
domestics.  Then,  when  they  had  thus  passed  the  day  in 
building  castles  in  the  air,  they  separated  their  flocks  and 
descended  from  the  elevation  of  their  dreams  to  the  reality 
of  their  humble  position. 

"  One  day  the  young  shepherd  told  the  count's  stew- 
ard that  he  had  seen  a  wolf  come  out  of  the  Sabine  Moun- 
tains and  prowl  around  his  flock.  The  steward  gave  him 
a  gun ;  this  was  what  Vampa  longed  for.     This  gun  had 


444  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

an  excellent  barrel,  made  at  Brescliia,  and  carrying  a  ball 
with  the  precision  of  an  English  rifle ;  but  one  day  the 
count  broke  the  stock,  and  had  then  cast  the  gun  aside. 
This,  however,  was  nothing  to  a  sculptor  like  Varapa.  He 
examined  the  ancient  stock,  calculated  what  change  it  would 
require  to  adapt  the  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and  made  a  fresh 
stock,  so  beautifully  carved  that  it  would  have  brought 
fifteen  or  twenty  piastres,  had  he  chosen  to  sell  it ;  but 
nothing  could  be  farther  from  his  thoughts.  For  a  long 
time  a  gun  had  been  the  young  man's  greatest  ambition. 
In  every  country  where  independence  has  taken  the  place 
of  liberty,  the  tirst  desire  of  a  manly  heart  is  to  possess  a 
weapon,  which  at  once  renders  him  capable  of  defence  or 
attack,  and  by  rendering  its  owner  terrible  often  makes 
liim  feared.  From  this  moment  Yampa  devoted  all  his 
leisure  time  to  perfecting  himself  in  the  use  of  this  pre- 
cious weapon ;  he  purchased  powder  and  ball,  and  every- 
thing served  him  for  a  mark,  —  the  trunk  of  some  old  and 
moss-grown  olive-tree  that  grew  on  the  Sabine  Mountains  ; 
the  fox,  as  he  quitted  his  earth  on  some  marauding  excur- 
sion ;  the  eagle  that  soared  above  their  heads.  And  thus 
he  soon  became  so  expert  that  Teresa  overcame  the  terror 
she  at  first  felt  at  the  report,  and  amused  herself  by  watch- 
ing him  while  he  directed  the  ball  wherever  he  pleased, 
with  as  much  accuracy  as  if  placed  by  the  hand. 

"  One  evening  a  wolf  emerged  from  a  pine  wood  near 
which  tliey  were  usually  stationed,  but  had  scarcely  ad- 
vanced ten  yards  ere  he  was  dead.  Proud  of  this  exploit, 
Vampa  took  the  dead  animal  on  his  shoulders,  and  carried 
him  to  the  farm.  All  these  circumstances  had  gained 
Luigi  considerable  reputation.  The  man  of  superior  abili- 
ties always  finds  admirers,  go  where  he  will.  He  was 
spoken  of  as  the  most  adroit,  the  strongest,  and  the  most 
courageous  contadino  for  ten  leagues  round  ;  and  although 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  445 

Teresa  was  universally  allowed  to  be  the  most  beautiful 
girl  of  the  Sabines,  no  one  had  ever  spoken  to  her  of  love, 
because  it  was  known  that  she  was  beloved  by  Vampa. 
And  yet  these  two  had  never  confessed  their  love  to  one 
another ;  they  had  grown  up  side  by  side,  like  two  trees 
which  intertwine  their  roots  in  the  ground  and  their 
branches  in  the  air,  and  whose  perfume  rises  together  to 
the  heavens.  Only  their  wish  to  see  each  other  had  be- 
come a  necessity,  and  they  would  have  preferred  death  to 
a  day's  separation.  Teresa  was  sixteen  and  Vampa  eigh- 
teen. About  this  time  a  band  of  brigands  that  had  estab- 
lished itself  in  the  Lepini  ^lountains  began  to  be  much 
spoken  of.  The  brigands  had  never  been  really  extirpated 
from  the  neighborhood  of  Rome.  Sometimes  a  chief  is 
wanted,  but  when  a  chief  presents  himself  he  rarely 
wants  a  band. 

"  The  celebrated  Cucumetto,  pursued  in  the  Abruzzo, 
driven  out  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  where  he  had  carried 
on  a  regular  war,  had  crossed  the  Garigliano,  like  Manfred, 
and  had  come  between  Sonnino  and  Juperno  to  take  refuge 
on  the  banks  of  the  Amasine.  He  strove  to  reorganize  a 
band,  and  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  Decesaris  and  Gas- 
perone,  whom  he  hoped  to  surpass.  Many  young  men  of 
Palestrina,  Frascati,  and  Pampinara  disappeared.  Their 
disappearance  at  first  caused  much  inquietude ;  but  it  was 
soon  known  that  they  had  joined  the  band  of  Cucumetto. 
After  some  time  Cucumetto  became  the  object  of  universal 
attention ;  the  most  extraordinary  traits  of  ferocious  daring 
and  brutality  were  related  of  him.  One  day  he  carried 
off  a  young  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  surveyor  of  Frosinone. 
The  bandits'  laws  f^re  positive  :  a  young  girl  belongs  first 
to  him  who  carries  her  off ;  then  the  rest  draw  lots  for  her, 
and  she  is  abandoned  to  their  brutality  until  death  relieves 
her  sufferings.     When  her  parents  are  sufficiently  rich  to 


446  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

pay  a  ransom,  a  messenger  is  sent  to  treat  concerning  it. 
The  prisoner  is  hostage  for  the  security  of  the  messen- 
ger ;  should  the  ransom  be  refused,  the  prisoner  is  irre- 
vocably lost.  The  young  girl's  lover  was  in  Cucumetto's 
troop ;  his  name  was  Carlini.  When  she  recognized  her 
lover,  the  poor  girl  extended  her  arms  to  him  and  believed 
herself  safe  ;  but  Carlini  felt  his  heart  sink,  for  he  but 
too  well  knew  the  fate  that  awaited  her.  However,  as 
he  was  a  favorite  with  Cucumetto  ;  as  he  had  for  three 
years  faithfully  served  him ;  and  as  he  had  saved  his  life 
by  shooting  a  dragoon  who  was  about  to  cut  him  down,  — 
he  hoped  he  would  have  pity  on  him.  He  took  him  apart, 
while  the  young  girl,  seated  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  pine 
that  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  forest,  formed  with  her 
picturesque  head-dress  a  veil  to  hide  her  face  from  the 
lascivious  gaze  of  the  bandits.  There  he  told  him  all,  — 
his  affection  for  the  prisoner,  their  promises  of  mutual 
fidelity,  and  how  every  night  since  he  had  been  near 
they  had  met  in  a  ruin. 

"  It  so  happened  that  night  that  Cucumetto  had  sent 
Carlini  to  a  neighboring  village,  so  that  he  had  been 
unable  to  go  to  the  place  of  meeting.  Cucumetto  had 
been  there,  however,  —  by  accident,  as  he  said,  —  and 
had  carried  the  maiden  off.  Carlini  besought  his  chief  to 
make  an  exception  in  Rita's  favor,  as  her  father  was  rich, 
and  could  pay  a  large  ransom.  Cucumetto  seemed  to 
yield  to  his  friend's  entreaties,  and  bade  him  find  a  shep- 
herd to  send  to  Rita's  father  at  Frosinone.  Carlini  flew 
joyfully  to  Rita,  telling  her  she  was  saved,  and  bidding 
her  write  to  her  father  to  inform  him  what  had  occurred, 
and  that  her  ransom  was  fixed  at  three  hundred  piastres. 
Twelve  hours'  delay  was  all  that  was  granted,  —  that  is, 
until  nine  the  next  morning.  The  instant  the  letter  was 
written  Carlini  seized  it,  and  hastened  to  the  plain  to  find 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  447 

a  messenger.  He  found  a  young  shepherd  watching  his 
flock.  The  natural  messengers  of  the  bandits  are  the 
shepherds,  who  live  between  the  city  and  tlie  mountains, 
between  civilized  and  savage  life.  The  boy  undertook 
the  commission,  promising  to  be  in  Frosinone  in  less  than 
an  hour.  Carlini  returned,  eager  to  see  his  mistress,  and 
announce  the  joyful  intelligence.  He  found  the  troop  in 
the  glade,  supping  off  the  provisions  exacted  as  contribu- 
tions from  the  peasants ;  but  his  eye  vainly  sought  Eita 
and  Cucumetto  among  them.  He  inquired  where  they 
were,  and  was  answered  by  a  burst  of  laughter.  A  cold 
perspiration  burst  from  every  pore,  and  his  hair  stood  on 
end.  He  repeated  his  question.  One  of  the  bandits  rose 
and  offered  him  a  glass  filled  with  wine  of  Orvietto,  saying, 
*To  the  health  of  the  brave  Cucumetto  and  the  fair  Rita !' 
At  this  moment  Carlini  heard  the  cry  of  a  woman ;  he 
divined  the  truth,  seized  the  glass,  broke  it  across  the  face 
of  him  who  presented  it,  and  rushed  towards  the  spot 
whence  the  cry  came.  After  going  a  hundred  yards  he 
turned  the  corner  of  the  thicket ;  he  found  Rita  senseless 
in  the  arms  of  Cucumetto.  At  the  sight  of  Carlini,  Cucu- 
metto rose,  a  pistol  in  each  hand.  The  two  brigands 
looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment,  —  the  one  with  a  smile 
of  lasciviousness  on  his  lips,  the  other  with  the  pallor  of 
death  on  his  brow.  It  seemed  that  something  terrible 
was  about  to  pass  between  these  two  men ;  but  by  degrees 
Carlini's  features  relaxed.  His  hand,  which  had  grasped 
one  of  the  pistols  in  his  belt,  fell  to  his  side.  Rita  lay 
between  them.     The  moon  lighted  the  group. 

" '  Well,'  said  Cucumetto,  '  have  you  executed  your  com- 
mission 1 '  '  Yes,  Captain,'  returned  Carlini.  *  At  nine 
o'clock  to-morrow,  Rita's  father  will  be  here  with  the 
money.'  *  It  is  well ;  in  the  mean  time,  we  will  have  a 
merry  night.    This  young  girl  is  charming,  and  does  credit 


448  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

to  your  taste.  Now,  as  I  am  not  selfish,  we  will  return 
to  our  comrades  and  draw  lots  for  her.'  *  You  have  deter- 
mined, then,  to  abandon  her  to  the  common  law  1 '  said 
Carlini.  '  Why  should  an  exception  be  made  in  her 
favor  ? '  *  I  thought  that  my  entreaties  — '  '  What 
right  have  you,  any  more  than  the  rest,  to  ask  for  an 
exception  V  *  It  is  true.'  *  But  never  mind,'  continued 
Cucumetto,  laughing,  'sooner  or  later  your  turn  will  come.' 
Carlini's  teeth  clinched  convulsively.  '  Now,  then,'  said 
Cucumetto,  advancing  towards  the  other  bandits,  *  are  you 
coming]'  'I  follow  you.'  Cucumetto  departed  without 
losing  sight  of  Carlini,  for  doubtless  he  feared  lest  he 
should  strike  him  unawares  ;  but  nothing  betrayed  a  hos- 
tile design  on  Carlini's  j^art.  He  was  standing,  his  arms 
folded,  near  Rita,  who  was  still  insensible.  Cucumetto 
fancied  for  a  moment  the  young  man  was  about  to  take 
her  in  his  arms  and  fly ;  but  this  mattered  little  to  him 
now  Rita  had  been  his,  and  as  for  the  money,  three  hun- 
dred piastres  distributed  among  the  band  was  so  small  a 
sum  that  he  cared  little  about  it.  He  continued  to  follow 
the  path  to  the  glade  ;  but  to  his  great  surprise,  Carlini 
arrived  almost  as  soon  as  himself.  '  Let  us  draw  lots ! 
let  us  draw  lots  ! '  cried  all  the  brigands,  when  they  saw 
the  chief. 

"  Their  demand  was  fair ;  and  the  chief  inclined  his 
head  in  sign  of  acquiescence.  The  eyes  of  all  shone 
fiercely  as  they  made  their  demand,  and  the  red  light  of 
the  fire  made  them  look  like  demons.  The  names  of  all, 
including  Carlini,  were  placed  in  a  hat,  and  the  youngest 
of  the  band  drew  forth  a  ticket ;  the  ticket  bore  the  name 
of  Diavolaccio.  He  was  the  man  who  had  proposed  to 
Carlini  the  health  of  their  chief,  and  to  whom  Carlini  had 
replied  by  breaking  the  glass  across  his  face.  A  large 
wound,  extending  from  the  temple  to  the  mouth,  was 


ROMAN-  BANDITS.  449 

bleeding  profusely.  Diavolaccio,  seeing  himself  thus  fa- 
vored by  fortune,  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  '  Captain,'  said 
he,  'just  now  Carlini  would  not  drink  your  health  when 
I  proposed  it  to  him ;  propose  mine  to  him,  and  let  us  see 
if  he  will  be  more  condescending  to  you  than  to  me.' 
Every  one  expected  an  explosion  on  Carlini's  part ;  but 
to  their  great  surprise,  he  took  a  glass  in  one  hand  and  a 
flask  in  the  other,  and  tilling  it,  '  Your  health,  Diavo- 
laccio,' said  he,  calmly,  and  he  drank  it  off  without  his 
hand  trembling  in  the  least.  Then  sitting  down  by  the 
fire,  *  My  supper,'  said  he  ;  '  my  expedition  has  given  me 
an  appetite.'  *  Well  done,  Carlini ! '  cried  the  brigands  ; 
'  that  is  acting  like  a  good  fellow  ; '  and  they  all  formed  a 
circle  round  the  fire,  while  Diavolaccio  disappeared.  Car- 
lini ate  and  drank  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The 
bandits  looked  at  him  with  astonishment,  not  understand- 
ing his  strange  impassiveness,  when  upon  the  ground 
behind  them  they  heard  a  heavy  footstep.  They  turned 
round  and  saw  Diavolaccio  bearing  the  young  girl  in  his 
arms.  Her  head  hung  back,  and  her  long  hair  swept  the 
ground.  As  they  entered  the  circle,  the  bandits  could  per- 
ceive by  the  firelight  the  unearthly  pallor  of  the  young 
girl  and  of  Diavolaccio.  This  apparition  was  so  strange 
and  so  solemn  that  every  one  rose  with  the  exception  of 
Carlini,  who  remained  seated,  and  ate  and  drank  calmly. 
Diavolaccio  advanced  amid  the  most  profound  silence  and 
laid  Rita  at  the  captain's  feet.  Then  every  one  could 
understand  the  cause  of  that  pallor  of  the  young  girl  and 
of  the  bandit.  A  knife  was  plunged  up  to  the  hilt  in 
Rita's  left  breast.  Every  one  looked  at  Carlini ;  the  sheath 
at  his  belt  was  empty.  '  Ah,  ah  ! '  said  the  chief,  '  I 
now  understand  why  Carlini  stayed  behind.' 

"  All  savage  natures  appreciate  a  desperate  deed.  No 
other  of  the  bandits  would  perhaps  have  done  the  same ; 

VOL.  I. —29 


450  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CEISTO. 

but  they  all  understood  what  Carlini  had  done.  *Xow, 
then,'  cried  Carlini,  rising  in  his  turn  and  approaching 
the  corpse,  his  hand  on  the  butt  of  one  of  his  pistols, 
*  does  any  one  dispute  the  possession  of  this  woman  with 
me  1 '  '  No,'  returned  the  chief,  '  she  is  thine.'  Carlini 
raised  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  out  of  the  circle  of 
light  around  the  fire.  Cucumetto  placed  his  sentinels  for 
the  night,  and  the  bandits  wrapped  themselves  in  their 
cloaks  and  lay  down  before  the  fire.  At  midnight  the 
sentinel  gave  the  alarm,  and  in  an  instant  all  were  on  the 
alert.  It  was  Eita's  father,  who  brought  his  daughter's 
ransom  in  person.  '  Here,'  said  he  to  Cucumetto,  —  '  here 
are  three  hundred  piastres ;  give  me  back  my  child.'  But 
the  chief,  without  taking  the  money,  made  a  sign  to 
him  to  follow  him.  The  old  man  obeyed.  They  both 
advanced  beneath  tlie  trees,  through  whose  branches 
streamed  the  moonlight.  Cucumetto  stopped  at  last  and 
pointed  to  two  persons  grouped  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 
'  There,'  said  he,  '  demand  thy  child  of  Carlini ;  he  will 
tell  thee  what  has  become  of  her ; '  and  he  returned  to  his 
companions. 

"  The  old  man  remained  motionless  ;  he  felt  that  some 
great  and  unforeseen  misfortune  hung  over  his  head.  At 
length  he  advanced  towards  the  group,  which  he  could 
not  comprehend.  As  he  approached,  Carlini  raised  his 
head,  and  the  forms  of  two  persons  became  visible  to  the 
old  man's  eyes.  A  female  lay  on  the  ground,  her  head 
resting  on  the  knees  of  a  man  who  was  seated  by  her ;  as 
he  raised  his  head  the  female's  face  became  visible.  The 
old  man  recognized  his  child,  and  Carlini  recognized  the 
old  man.  'I  expected  thee,'  said  the  bandit  to  Rita's 
father.  *  Wretch  ! '  returned  the  old  man, '  what  hast  thou 
done  1 '  and  he  gazed  with  terror  on  Rita,  pale  and  bloody, 
a  knife  buried  in  her  bosom.     A  ray  of  moonlight  poured 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  451 

through  the  trees  and  lighted  up   the  face  of  the  dead. 

*  Cucuraetto  had  violated  thy  daughter,*  said  the  handit ; 

*  I  loved  her,  therefore  I  slew  her,  —  for  she  would  haA'e 
served  as  the  sport  of  the  whole  band.'  The  old  man 
spoke  not,  and  grew  pale  as  death.  'iSTow,'  continued 
Carlini,  '  if  I  have  done  wrongly,  avenge  her ; '  and  with- 
drawing the  knife  from  the  wound  in  liita's  bosom,  he 
held  it  out  to  the  old  man  with  one  hand,  "while  with  the 
other  he  tore  open  his  vest.  *  Thou  hast  done  well  I '  re- 
turned the  old  man,  in  a  hoarse  voice ;  *  embrace  me,  my 
son.'  Carlini  threw  himself,  sobbing  like  a  child,  into 
the  arms  of  his  mistress's  father.  These  were  the  first 
tears  the  man  of  blood  had  ever  wept.  *  !Now,'  said  the 
old  man,  *  aid  me  to  bury  my  child.'  Carlini  fetched  two 
pickaxes,  and  the  father  and  the  lover  began  to  dig  at  the 
foot  of  a  huge  oak,  beneath  which  the  young  girl  was  to 
repose.  When  the  grave  was  formed,  the  father  embraced 
her  first,  and  then  the  lover ;  afterwards,  one  taking  the 
head,  the  other  the  feet,  they  placed  her  in  the  grave. 
Then  they  knelt  on  each  side  of  the  grave  and  said  the 
prayers  of  tlie  dead.  Then,  when  they  had  finished,  they 
cast  the  earth  over  the  corpse  until  the  grave  was  hlled. 
Then,  extending  his  hand,  the  old  man  said,  *I  thank  you, 
my  son ;  and  now  leave  me  alone.'  '  Yet  —  '  replied 
Carlini.  *  Leave  me,  I  command  you.'  Carlini  obeyed, 
rejoined  his  comrades,  folded  himself  in  his  cloak,  and 
soon  appeared  as  deep  asleep  as  the  rest. 

"  It  had  been  resolved  the  night  before  to  change 
their  encampment.  An  hour  before  daybreak  Cucumetto 
aroused  his  men  and  gave  the  word  to  march.  But  Car- 
lini would  not  quit  the  forest  without  knowing  what  had 
become  of  Rita's  father.  He  went  towards  the  place  where 
he  had  left  him.  He  found  the  old  man  suspended  from 
one  of  tlie  branches  of  the  oak  which  shaded  his  dauijh- 


452  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

ter's  grave.  He  then  took  an  oath  of  bitter  vengeance 
over  the  dead  body  of  the  one  and  the  tomb  of  the  other. 
But  he  was  unable  to  complete  this  oath,  for  two  days 
afterwards,  in  a  rencontre  with  the  Roman  carbineers, 
Carlini  was  killed.  There  was  some  surprise,  however, 
that  as  he  was  with  his  face  to  the  enemy  he  should  have 
received  a  ball  between  his  shoulders.  That  astonishment 
ceased  when  one  of  the  brigands  remarked  to  his  comrades 
that  Cucumetto  was  stationed  ten  paces  in  Carlini's  rear 
when  he  fell.  On  the  morning  of  the  departure  from  the 
forest  of  Frosinone  he  had  followed  Carlini  in  the  dark- 
ness, had  heard  his  oath  of  vengeance,  and  like  a  wise 
man  had  prevented  its  fulfilment. 

"  They  told  ten  other  stories  of  this  bandit  chief  not 
less  strange  than  this.  Thus,  from  Fondi  to  Perouse, 
every  one  trembled  at  the  name  of  Cucumetto.  These 
narratives  were  freqiiently  the  themes  of  conversation 
between  Luigi  and  Teresa.  The  young  girl  trembled  very 
much  at  all  these  tales.  But  Vampa  reassured  her  with  a 
smile,  tapping  the  butt  of  his  good  fowling-piece,  which 
threw  its  ball  so  well ;  and  if  that  did  not  restore  her 
courage,  he  pointed  to  a  crow  perched  on  some  dead 
branch,  took  an  aim,  touched  the  trigger,  and  the  bird  fell 
dead  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  Time  passed  on ;  and  the 
two  young  persons  had  agreed  to  be  married  when  Vampa 
should  be  twenty  and  Teresa  nineteen  years  of  age.  They 
were  both  orphans,  and  had  only  their  employer's  leave  to 
ask,  which  had  been  already  sought  and  obtained.  One 
day  when  they  were  talking  over  their  plans  for  the 
future,  they  heard  two  or  three  reports  of  fire-arms,  and 
then  suddenly  a  man  came  out  of  the  wood  near  which 
the  two  young  persons  used  to  graze  their  flocks,  and 
hurried  towards  them.  When  he  came  within  hearing, 
he   exclaimed,  *  I   am   pursued ;   can   you  conceal   me  1 ' 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  453 

They  knew  full  well  that  this  fugitive  must  be  a  bandit ; 
but  there  is  a  natural  sympathy  between  the  Roman  bri- 
gand and  the  Roman  peasant,  and  the  latter  is  always 
ready  to  aid  the  former.  Vampa,  without  saying  a  word, 
hastened  to  the  stone  that  closed  up  the  entrance  to  their 
grotto,  drew  it  away,  made  a  sign  to  the  fugitive  to  take 
refuge  there  in  a  retreat  unknown  to  every  one,  closed 
the  stone  upon  him,  and  then  went  and  resumed  his  seat 
by  Teresa.  Instantly  afterwards  four  carbineers  on  horse- 
back appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  wood ;  three  of  them 
appeared  to  be  looking  for  the  fugitive,  while  the  fourth 
dragged  a  brigand  prisoner  by  the  neck.  The  three  car- 
bineers looked  around  them  on  all  sides,  saw  the  young 
peasants,  and  galloping  up,  interrogated  them.  They  had 
seen  no  one.     'That  is  very  annoying,'  said  the  brigadier; 

*  for  the  man  we  are  looking  for  is  the  chief.'  '  Cucu- 
metto  ] '    cried  Luigi  and   Teresa  at   the  same  moment. 

*  Yes,'  replied  the  brigadier ;  '  and  as  his  head  is  valued 
at  a  thousand  Roman  crowns,  there  would  have  been  five 
hundred  for  you  if  you  had  helped  us  to  catch  him.'  The 
two  young  persons  exchanged  looks.  The  brigadier  had  a 
moment's  hope.  Five  hundred  Roman  crowns  are  three 
thousand  livres,  and  three  thousand  livres  are  a  fortune 
for  two  poor  orphans  who  are  going  to  be  married,  'Yes, 
it  is  very  annoying,'  said  Vampa ;  '  but  we  have  not 
seen  him.' 

"  Then  the  carbineers  scoured  the  country  in  different 
directions,  but  in  vain ;  then  after  a  time  they  disap- 
peared. Vampa  then  removed  the  stone,  and  Cucumetto 
came  out.  He  had  seen,  through  the  crevices  in  the 
granite,  the  two  young  peasants  talking  with  the  carbi- 
neers, and  guessed  the  subject  of  their  parley.  He  had 
read  in  the  countenances  of  Luigi  and  Teresa  their  stead- 
fast resolution  not  to  surrender  hira,  and  he  drew  from 


454  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

liis  pocket  a  purse  full  of  gold,  which  he  offered  to  them. 
But  Vampa  raised  his  head  proudly ;  as  to  Teresa,  her  eyes 
sparkled  when  she  thought  of  all  the  fine  gowns  and  gay 
jewelry  she  could  huy  with  this  purse  of  gold. 

"  Cucumetto  was  a  cunning  fiend  who  had  assumed  the 
form  of  a  brigand  instead  of  a  serpent ;  and  this  look  of 
Teresa  revealed  to  him  that  she  was  a  worthy  daughter  of 
Eve.  He  returned  to  the  forest,  pausing  several  times  on 
his  way  under  the  pretext  of  saluting  his  protectors.  Sev- 
eral days  elapsed,  and  they  neither  saw  nor  heard  of  Cucu- 
metto. The  time  of  the  Carnival  was  at  hand.  The  Comte 
de  San  Felice  announced  a  grand  masked  ball,  to  which  all 
that  were  distinguished  in  Rome  were  invited.  Teresa  had 
a  great  desire  to  see  this  ball.  Luigi  asked  permission  of 
his  protector,  the  steward,  that  she  and  he  might  be  pres- 
ent among  the  servants  of  the  house.  This  was  granted. 
The  ball  was  given  by  the  count  for  the  particular  pleas- 
ure of  his  daughter  Carmela,  whom  he  adored.  Carmela 
was  precisely  the  age  and  figure  of  Teresa,  and  Teresa  was 
as  handsome  as  Carmela.  On  the  evening  of  the  ball 
Teresa  was  attired  in  her  best, — her  most  brilliant  hair 
ornaments  and  gayest  glass  beads ;  she  was  in  the  cos- 
tume of  the  women  of  Frascati.  Luigi  wore  the  very 
picturesque  garb  of  the  Roman  peasant  at  holiday  time. 
They  both  mingled,  as  they  had  leave  to  do,  with  the 
servants  and  peasants. 

"  The  fete  M^as  magnificent,  —  not  only  was  the  villa 
brilliantly  illuminated,  but  thousands  of  colored  lanterns 
were  suspended  from  the  trees  in  the  garden ;  and  very 
soon  the  palace  overflowed  to  the  terraces,  and  the  terraces 
to  the  garden- walks.  At  each  cross-path  were  an  orchestra, 
and  tables  spread  with  refreshments ;  the  guests  stopped, 
formed  quadrilles,  and  danced  in  every  part  of  the  grounds 
they  pleased.     Carmela  was  attired  like  a  woman  of  Son- 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  455 

nino.  Her  cap  was  embroidered  with  pearls,  the  pins  in 
her  hair  were  of  gold  and  diamonds,  her  girdle  was  of 
Turkey  silk  with  large  embroidered  flowers,  her  bodice 
and  skirt  were  of  cashmere,  her  apron  of  Indian  muslin, 
and  the  buttons  of  her  corset  were  of  jewels.  Two  of  her 
companions  were  dressed,  the  one  as  a  woman  of  Nettuno, 
and  the  other  as  a  woman  of  La  Riccia.  Four  young  men 
of  the  richest  and  noblest  families  of  Rome  accompanied 
them  with  Italian  freedom,  which  has  not  its  parallel  in 
any  other  country  of  the  world.  They  were  attired  as 
peasants  of  Albano,  Velletri,  Civita  Castellana,  and  Sora. 
I  need  not  tell  you  that  these  peasant  costumes,  like  those 
of  the  women,  were  brilliant  with  gold  and  jewels. 

"  Carmela  wished  to  make  a  uniform  quadrille,  but  there 
was  one  woman  wanting.  She  looked  all  around  her,  but 
not  one  of  the  guests  had  a  costume  similar  to  her  own  or 
those  of  her  companions.  The  Comte  de  San  Felice  pointed 
out  to  her,  in  the  group  of  peasants,  Teresa,  who  was  hang- 
ing on  Luigi's  arm.  '  Will  you  allow  me.  Father  1 '  said 
Carmela.  'Certainly,'  replied  the  count;  'are  we  not  in 
Carnival  time  1 '  Carmela  turned  towards  the  young  man 
who  was  talking  with  her,  and  saying  a  few  words  to  him, 
pointed  with  her  finger  to  Teresa.  The  young  man  fol- 
lowed with  his  eyes  the  lovely  hand  which  made  this  in- 
dication, bowed  in  obedience,  and  then  went  to  Teresa 
and  invited  her  to  dance  in  a  quadrille  directed  by  the 
count's  daughter.  Teresa  felt  something  like  a  flame  pass 
over  her  face ;  she  looked  at  Luigi,  who  could  not  refuse 
his  assent.  I.uigi  slowly  relinquished  Teresa's  arm,  which 
he  had  held  beneath  his  own,  and  Teresa,  accompanied  by 
her  elegant  cavalier,  took  her  appointed  place  with  much 
agitation  in  the  aristocratic  quadrille.  Certainly,  in  the 
eyes  of  an  artist  the  exact  and  severe  costume  of  Teresa 
had  a  very  different  character  from  that  of  Carmela  and 


456  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

her  companions  ;  but  Teresa  was  frivolous  and  coquettish, 
and  thus  the  embroidery  and  muslins,  the  cashmere  waist- 
girdles,  all  dazzled  her,  and  the  reflection  of  sapphires  and 
diamonds  almost  turned  her  giddy  brain. 

"  Luigi  felt  a  sensation  hitherto  unknown  arising  in  his 
mind.  It  was  like  an  acute  pain  which  gnawed  at  his 
heart,  and  then  passed  thrillingly  throughout  his  frame, 
chasing  through  his  veins,  and  pervading  his  entire  body. 
He  followed  with  his  eyes  each  movement  of  Teresa  and 
her  cavalier.  When  their  hands  touched,  he  felt  as  though 
he  should  swoon  ;  every  pulse  beat  with  violence,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  a  bell  were  ringing  in  his  ears.  "When 
they  spoke,  although  Teresa  listened  timidly  and  with 
downcast  eyes  to  the  conversation  of  her  cavalier,  as  Luigi 
could  read  in  the  ardent  looks  of  the  good-looking  young 
man  that  his  language  was  that  of  praise,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  whole  world  was  turning  round  with  him,  and  all  the 
voices  of  liell  were  whispering  in  his  ears  ideas  of  mur- 
der and  assassination.  Then  fearing  that  his  paroxysm 
might  get  the  better  of  him,  he  clutched  with  one  hand 
the  branch  of  a  tree  against  which  he  was  leaning,  and 
with  the  other  convulsively  grasped  the  dagger  with  a 
carved  handle  which  was  in  his  belt,  and  which,  unwit- 
tingly, he  drew  from  the  scabbard  from  time  to  time, 
Luigi  was  jealous  !  He  felt  that  influenced  by  her  ambi- 
tion and  coquettish  disposition,  Teresa  might  escape  him. 

"The  young  peasant  girl,  at  first  timid  and  almost 
frightened,  soon  recovered  herself.  I  have  said  that 
Teresa  was  handsome,  but  this  is  not  all ;  Teresa  had 
the  fascination  of  those  wild  graces  which  are  so  much 
more  potent  than  our  affected  and  studied  elegancies. 
She  had  almost  all  the  honors  of  the  quadrille,  and  if  she 
was  envious  of  the  Comte  de  San  Felice's  daughter,  I  will 
not  undertake  to  say  that  Carmela  was  not  jealous  of  her ; 


ROMAN   BANDITS.  457 

and  with  overpowering  compliments  her  handsome  cava- 
lier led  her  back  to  the  place  whence  he  had  taken  her 
and  where  Luigi  awaited  her.  Twice  or  thrice  during  the 
dance  the  young  girl  had  glanced  at  Luigi,  and  each  time 
she  saw  that  he  was  pale  and  that  his  features  were  agi- 
tated ;  once  even  the  blade  of  his  knife,  half  drawn  from 
its  sheath,  had  dazzled  her  eyes  with  its  sinister  gleam. 
Thus  she  was  almost  trembling  when  she  resumed  her 
lover's  arm.  The  quadrille  had  been  very  successful ;  and 
it  was  evident  there  was  a  great  demand  for  a  repetition  of 
it.  Carmela  alone  objected  to  it ;  but  the  Comte  de  San 
Felice  begged  his  daughter  so  earnestly  that  she  acceded. 
One  of  the  cavaliers  then  hastened  to  invite  Teresa,  with- 
out whom  it  was  impossible  to  form  the  quadrille,  but  the 
young  girl  had  disappeared.  In  fact,  Luigi  had  not  the 
strength  to  support  another  such  trial,  and  half  by  persua- 
sion and  half  by  force,  he  had  removed  Teresa  to  another 
part  of  the  garden.  Teresa  had  yielded  in  spite  of  her- 
self; but  when  she  looked  at  the  agitated  countenance  of 
th3  young  man,  she  understood  by  his  silence  and  trem- 
bling voice  that  something  strange  was  passing  within 
him.  She  herself  was  not  free  from  internal  emotion, 
and  without  having  done  anything  wrong,  yet  fully  com- 
prehended that  Luigi  would  be  in  the  right  if  he  should 
reproach  her.  Why,  she  did  not  know,  but  she  did  not 
the  less  feel  that  she  had  somehow  deserved  to  be  blamed. 
However,  to  Teresa's  great  astonishment  Luigi  remained 
mute,  and  not  a  word  escaped  his  lips  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing. But  when  the  chill  of  the  night  had  driven  away 
the  guests  from  the  gardens,  and  the  gates  of  the  villa 
were  closed  for  the  fete  indoors,  he  took  Teresa  away  ;  and 
as  he  left  her  at  her  home,  he  said,  '  Teresa,  what  were 
you  thinking  of  as  you  danced  opposite  the  young  Com- 
tesse  de  San  Felice  1'     'I  thought,'  replied  the  young  girl, 


458  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

with  all  the  frankness  of  her  nature,  '  that  I  would  give 
half  my  life  for  a  costume  such  as  she  wore.'  *  And  what 
said  your  cavalier  to  you  ] '  *  He  said  it  only  depended 
on  myself  to  have  it,  and  I  had  only  one  word  to  say.' 
'  He  was  right,'  said  Luigi ;  *  do  you  desire  it  as  ardently 
as  you  say  1 '     *  Yes.'     *  Well,  then,  you  shall  have  it ! ' 

"  The  young  girl,  much  astonished,  raised  her  head  to 
look  at  him  ;  hut  his  face  was  so  gloomy  and  terrihle  that 
her  words  froze  to  her  lips.  As  Luigi  spoke  thus,  he  left 
her.  Teresa  followed  him  with  her  eyes  into  the  darkness 
as  long  as  she  could,  and  when  he  had  quite  disappeared 
she  entered  her  apartment  with  a  sigh. 

"  That  night  a  great  accident  happened,  no  douht  from 
the  imprudence  of  some  servant  who  had  neglected  to  ex- 
tinguish the  lights.  The  Vdla  de  San  Felice  took  fire  in. 
the  rooms  adjoining  the  very  apartment  of  the  lovely  Car- 
mela.  Wakened  in  the  night  hy  the  light  of  the  flames,  she 
had  sprung  out  of  bed,  wrapped  herself  in  a  dressing-gown, 
and  attempted  to  escape  by  the  door ;  but  the  corridor  by 
which  she  hoped  to  fly  was  already  a  prey  to  the  flames. 
She  had  then  returned  to  her  room,  calling  for  help  as 
loudly  as  she  could,  when  suddenly  her  window,  which  was 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  was  opened  ;  a  young  peasant 
jumped  into  the  chamber,  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  with 
superhuman  skill  and  strength  conveyed  her  to  the  turf  of 
the  grass-plot,  where  she  fainted.  When  she  recovered, 
her  father  was  by  her  side.  All  the  servants  surrounded 
her,  offering  her  assistance.  An  entire  wing  of  the  villa 
was  burned  down ;  but  what  was  that,  since  Carmela  was 
safe  and  uninjured  ?  Her  preserver  was  everywhere  sought 
for,  but  did  not  appear ;  he  was  inquired  for  everywhere, 
hut  no  one  had  seen  him.  Carmela  was  greatly  troubled 
that  she  had  not  recognized  him.  As  the  count  was 
immensely  rich,  setting  aside   the   peril   to    Carmela,  — 


ROMAX  BANDITS.  459 

winch  in  view  of  her  miraculous  escape  seemed  to  him 
rather  a  new  favor  of  Providence  than  an  actual  misfor- 
tune, —  the  loss  occasioned  by  the  conflagration  was  to 
him  but  a  trifle. 

"  The  next  day  at  the  usual  hour  the  two  young  peas- 
ants were  on  the  borders  of  the  forest.  Luigi  arrived 
first.  He  came  towards  Teresa  in  high  spirits,  and  seemed 
to  have  completely  forgotten  the  events  of  the  previous 
evening.  The  young  girl  was  visibly  thoughtful ;  but  see- 
ing Luigi  so  cheerful,  she  on  her  part  assumed  a  smiling 
air,  Avhich  was  natural  to  her  when  no  excitement  of  pas- 
sion came  to  disturb  her.  Luigi  took  her  arm  beneath 
his  own,  and  led  her  to  the  door  of  the  grotto.  There  he 
paused.  The  young  girl,  perceiving  that  there  was  some- 
thing extraordinary,  looked  at  him  steadfastly.  '  Teresa,' 
said  Luigi,  *  yesterday  evening  you  told  me  you  would 
give  all  the  world  to  have  a  costume  similar  to  that  of  the 
count's  daughter.*  'Yes,'  replied  Teresa,  with  astonish- 
ment ;  *  but  I  was  mad  to  utter  such  a  wish.'  '  And  I  re- 
plied, "  Very  well,  you  shall  have  it."  '  *  Yes,'  replied  the 
young  girl,  whose  astonishment  increased  at  every  word 
uttered  by  Luigi,  '  but  of  course  your  reply  was  only  to 
please  me.'  '  I  have  promised  no  more  than  I  have  given 
you,  Teresa,'  said  Luigi,  proudly.  *  Go  into  the  grotto  and 
dress  yourself.'  At  these  words  he  drew  away  the  stone 
and  showed  Teresa  the  grotto,  lighted  up  by  two  wax 
lights,  which  burned  on  each  side  of  a  splendid  mirror ; 
on  a  rustic  table,  made  by  Luigi,  were  spread  out  the  pearl 
necklace  and  the  diamond  pins,  and  on  a  chair  at  the  side 
was  laid  the  rest  of  the  costume. 

"  Teresa  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  without  inquiring 
whence  this  attire  came,  or  even  thanking  Luigi,  darted 
into  the  grotto,  transformed  into  a  dressing-room.  Luigi 
pushed  the  stone  behind  her,  for  he  saw  on  the  crest  of  a 


460  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

small  adjacent  hill  between  him  and  Palestrina,  a  traveller 
on  horseback,  who  stopped  a  moment  as  if  uncertain  of  his 
road,  and  was  thus  visible  against  the  azure  sky  with  that 
distinctness  of  outline  peculiar  to  the  perspective  of  south- 
ern countries.  When  he  saw  Luigi,  he  put  his  horse  into 
a  gallop  and  advanced  towards  him.  Luigi  was  not  mis- 
taken. The  traveller,  who  was  going  from  Palestrina  to 
Tivoli,  had  mistaken  his  way.  The  young  man  directed 
him  ;  but  as  at  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  road 
again  divided  into  three  ways,  and  on  reaching  these  the 
traveller  might  again  stray  from  his  route,  he  begged  Luigi 
to  be  his  guide.  Luigi  threw  his  cloak  on  the  ground, 
placed  his  carbine  on  his  shoulder,  and  freed  from  his 
heavy  covering,  preceded  the  traveller  with  the  rapid  step 
of  a  mountaineer,  which  a  horse  can  scarcely  keep  up 
with.  In  ten  minutes  Luigi  and  the  traveller  reached  the 
cross-roads  alluded  to  by  the  young  shepherd.  On  ar- 
riving there,  with  an  air  as  majestic  as  that  of  an  em- 
peror he  stretched  his  hand  towards  that  one  of  the  roads 
which  the  traveller  was  to  follow.  *  That  is  your  road, 
Excellency ;  and  now  you  cannot  again  mistake.'  '  And 
here  is  your  recompense,'  said  the  traveller,  offering  the 
young  herdsman  some  pieces  of  small  money.  *  Thank 
you,'  said  Luigi,  drawing  back  his  hand  ;  '  I  render  a  ser- 
vice, I  do  not  sell  it.*  '  Well,'  replied  the  traveller,  who 
seemed  used  to  this  difference  between  the  servility  of  a 
man  of  tlie  cities  and  the  pride  of  the  mountaineer,  '  if  you 
refuse  pay,  you  will  perhaps  accept  of  a  present.'  *  Ah, 
yes,  that  is  another  thing.'  'Then,*  said  the  traveller, 
*  take  these  two  Venetian  sequins  and  give  them  to  your 
bride,  to  make  herself  a  pair  of  ear-rings.'  *  And  then  do 
you  take  this  poniard,'  said  the  young  herdsman  ;  *  you 
will  not  find  one  better  carved  between  Albaua  and  Civita 
Castellana.'  'I  accept  it,'  answered  the  traveller;  'but 
then  the  obligation  will  be  on  my  side,  for  this  poniard  is 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  461 

worth  more  than  two  sequins.'  'For  a  dealer,  perhaps; 
but  for  me,  who  engraved  it  myself,  it  is  hardly  worth  a 
piastre.'  '  What  is  your  name  1 '  inquired  the  traveller. 
*  Luigi  Vampa,'  replied  the  shepherd,  in  the  same  manner 
in  which  he  would  have  said,  '  Alexander,  King  of  Mace- 
don  ; '  '  and  yours  V  'I,'  said  the  traveller,  '  am  called  Sin- 
bad  the  Sailor.'  " 

Franz  d'Epinay  started  with  surprise.  "  Sinbad  the 
Sailor?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  narrator;  "that  was  the  name  which 
the  traveller  gave  to  Vampa  as  his  own." 

"  "Well,  and  what  may  you  have  to  say  against  this 
name  1 "  inquired  Albert.  "  It  is  a  very  pretty  name  ;  and 
the  adventures  of  the  gentleman  of  that  name  amused  me 
very  much  in  my  youth,  I  must  confess." 

Franz  said  no  more.  The  name  of  Sinbad  the  Sailor,  as 
may  well  be  supposed,  awakened  in  him  a  world  of  recol- 
lections.    "  Proceed  !  "  said  he  to  the  host. 

"  Vampa  put  the  two  sequins  haughtily  into  his  pocket, 
and  slowly  returned  by  the  way  he  had  gone.  As  he 
came  within  two  or  three  hundred  paces  of  the  grotto,  he 
thought  he  heard  a  cry.  He  listened  to  know  whence 
this  sound  could  proceed.  A  moment  afterwards  and  he 
heard  his  own  name  pronounced  distinctly.  The  cry  pro- 
ceeded from  the  grotto.  He  bounded  like  a  chamois, 
cocking  his  carbine  as  he  went,  and  in  a  moment  reached 
the  summit  of  a  hill  opposite  to  that  on  which  he  had 
perceived  the  traveller.  There  the  cries  for  help  came  to 
him  more  distinctly.  He  cast  his  eyes  around  him,  and 
saw  a  man  carrying  off  Teresa,  as  the  Centaur  Nessus  car- 
ried Dejanira.  This  man,  who  was  hastening  towards  the 
wood,  was  already  three-quarters  of  the  way  on  the  road 
from  the  grotto  to  the  forest.  Vampa  measured  the  dis- 
tance ;  the  man  was  at  least  two  hundred  paces  in  advance 
of  him,  and  there  was  not  a  chance  of  overtaking  him. 


462  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  young  shepherd  stopped  as  if  his  feet  had  been  rooted 
to  the  ground ;  then  he  put  the  butt  of  his  carbine  to  his 
shoulder,  took  aim  at  the  ravisher,  followed  him  for  a 
second  in  his  track,  and  then  fired.  The  ravisher  stopped 
suddenly,  his  knees  bent  under  liim,  and  he  fell  with 
Teresa  in  his  arms.  The  young  girl  rose  instantly ;  but 
the  man  lay  on  the  earth  struggling  in  the  agonies  of 
death.  Yampa  then  rushed  towards  Teresa,  —  for  at  ten 
paces  from  the  dying  man  her  legs  had  failed  her  and  she 
had  dropped  on  her  knees  ;  so  that  the  young  man  feared 
that  the  ball  that  had  brought  down  his  enemy  had  also 
Avounded  his  betrothed.  Fortunately,  she  was  unscathed  ; 
r.nd  it  was  fright  alone  that  had  overcome  Teresa.  When 
Luigi  had  assured  himself  that  she  was  safe  and  unharmed, 
he  turned  towards  the  wounded  man.  He  had  just  ex- 
pired, with  clinched  hands,  his  mouth  in  a  spasm  of 
agony,  and  his  hair  on  end  in  the  sweat  of  death.  His 
eyes  remained  open  and  menacing,  Vampa  approached 
the  body  and  recognized  Cucumetto. 

"  From  the  day  on  which  the  bandit  had  been  saved  by 
the  two  young  peasants,  he  had  been  enamoured  of  Teresa, 
and  had  sworn  slie  should  be  his.  From  that  time  he  had 
watched  them,  and  profiting  by  the  moment  when  her 
lover  had  left  her  alone  while  he  guided  the  traveller  on 
his  way,  had  carried  her  off,  and  believed  he  at  length  had 
her  in  his  power,  when  the  ball,  directed  by  the  unerring 
skill  of  the  young  herdsman,  had  pierced  his  heart.  Vampa 
gazed  on  him  for  a  moment  without  betraying  the  slightest 
emotion  ;  while  on  the  contrary  Teresa,  shuddering  in 
every  limb,  dared  not  approach  the  slain  ruffian  but  by 
degrees,  and  threw  a  hesitating  glance  at  the  dead  body 
over  the  shoulder  of  her  lover.  Suddenly  Vampa  turned 
towards  his  mistress  ;  '  Ah,  ah  ! '  said  he,  '  good,  good  ! 
you  are  attired  ;  it  is  now  my  turn  to  dress  myself.' 

"  Teresa  was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  the  garb  of 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  4G3 

the  Comte  de  San  Felice's  daughter.  Vampa  took  Cucu- 
nietto's  body  in  his  arms  and  conveyed  it  to  the  grotto, 
■while  in  her  turn  Teresa  remained  outside.  If  a  second 
traveller  had  passed  he  would  have  seen  a  strange  thing, 
—  a  shepherdess  watching  her  flock,  clad  in  a  cashmere 
gown,  with  ear-rings  and  necklace  of  pearls,  diamond  pins, 
and  buttons  of  sapphires,  emeralds,  and  rubies.  He 
would  no  doubt  have  believed  that  he  had  returned  to  the 
times  of  Florian,  and  would  have  declared  on  reaching  Paris 
that  he  had  met  a  shepherdess  of  the  Alps  seated  at  the 
foot  of  the  Sabine  Hill.  At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  Vampa  quitted  the  grotto ;  his  costume  was  no  less 
elegant  than  that  of  Teresa.  He  wore  a  vest  of  garnet- 
colored  velvet,  with  buttons  of  cut  gold ;  a  silk  waistcoat 
covered  with  embroidery ;  a  Roman  scarf  tied  round  his 
neck ;  a  cartouche-box  worked  with  gold  and  red  and  green 
silk ;  sky-blue  velvet  breeches  fastened  above  the  knee 
with  diamond  buckles ;  garters  of  deer-skin  worked  with 
a  thousand  arabesques ;  and  a  hat  whereon  hung  ribbons 
of  all  colors.  Two  watches  hung  from  his  girdle,  and  a 
splendid  poniard  was  in  his  belt.  Teresa  uttered  a  cry  of 
admiration.  Vampa  in  this  attire  resembled  a  painting  by 
Leopold  Robert  or  by  Schnetz.  He  had  assumed  the 
entire  costume  of  Cucumetto.  The  young  man  saw  the 
effect  produced  on  his  betrothed,  and  a  smile  of  pride 
passed  over  his  lips.  '  Now,'  he  said  to  Teresa,  *  are  you 
readj''  to  share  my  fortune,  whatever  it  may  heV  *  Oh, 
yes!'  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  enthusiastically.  'And 
follow  me  wherever  I  go  1 '  'To  the  world's  end.'  'Then 
take  my  arm  and  let  us  go  on ;  we  have  no  time  to  lose.' 
The  young  girl  took  her  lover's  arm  without  asking  him 
whither  he  was  conducting  her, — for  he  appeared  to  her  at 
this  moment  as  handsome,  proud,  and  powerful  as  a  god. 
They  went  towards  the  forest  and  soon  entered  it.  All  the 
paths  of  the  mountain  were  of  course  well  known  to  Vam- 


464  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CPJSTO. 

pa.  He  therefore  went  forward  without  a  moment's  hes- 
itation, although  there  was  no  beaten  track ;  but  he  knew 
his  path  by  looking  at  the  trees  and  bushes,  and  thus  they 
kept  on  advancing  for  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half.  At  the 
end  of  this  time  they  had  reached  the  thickest  of  the  for- 
est. A  torrent,  whose  bed  was  dry,  led  into  a  deep  gorge. 
Vampa  took  this  wild  road,  which,  enclosed  between  two 
ridges  and  shadowed  by  the  tufted  umbrage  of  the  pines, 
seemed,  but  for  the  difficulties  of  its  descent,  that  path  to 
Avernus  of  which  Virgil  speaks.  Teresa  had  become 
alarmed  at  the  wild  and  deserted  look  of  the  plain  around 
her,  and  pressed  closely  against  her  guide,  not  uttering  a 
syllable  ;  but  as  she  saw  him  advance  with  even  step  and 
composed  countenance,  she  endeavored  to  repress  her  emo- 
tion. Suddenly,  about  ten  paces  from  them,  a  man  ad- 
vanced from  behind  a  tree  and  aimed  at  Vampa.  '  Not 
another  step,'  he  said,  '  or  you  are  a  dead  man  ! '  *  What, 
then  ! '  said  Vampa,  raising  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
disdain,  while  Teresa,  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  alarm, 
clung  closely  to  him;  'do  wolves  rend  each  other  1' 
'Who  are  youl'  inquired  the  sentinel.  'I  am  Luigi 
Vampa,  shepherd  of  the  farm  of  San  Felice.'  '  What  do 
you  want  ? '  *  I  would  speak  with  your  companions 
who  are  in  the  recess  at  Rocca  Bianca.*  *  Follow  me, 
then,'  said  the  sentinel ;  '  or  as  you  know  your  way,  go 
first.'  Vampa  smiled  disdainfully  at  this  precaution  of 
the  bandit,  went  before  Teresa,  and  continued  to  advance 
with  the  same  firm  and  easy  step  as  before.  At  the  end 
of  ten  minutes  the  bandit  made  them  a  sign  to  stop.  The 
two  young  persons  obeyed.  Then  the  bandit  thrice  imi- 
tated the  cry  of  a  crow ;  a  croak  answered  this  signal. 
*  Good  ! '  said  the  sentry ;  *  you  may  now  advance.'  Luigi 
and  Teresa  again  set  forward  ;  as  they  advanced,  Teresa 
clung  tremblingly  to  her  lover  as  she  saw  through  the 
trees  arms  appear  and  the  barrels  of  carbines  shine.     The 


ROMAN  BANDITS.  4G5 

retreat  of  Rocca  Bianca  was  at  the  top  of  a  small  moun- 
tain, which  no  doubt  in  former  days  had  been  a  volcano, 
—  a  volcano  extinct  before  the  days  when  Remus  and 
Romulus  had  deserted  Alba  to  come  and  found  the  city 
of  Rome.  Teresa  and  Luigi  reached  the  summit,  and  all 
at  once  found  themselves  in  the  presence  of  twenty  ban- 
dits, *  Here  is  a  young  man  who  seeks  and  wishes  to 
speak  to  you,'  said  the  sentinel.  '  What  has  he  to  say  1 ' 
inquired  the  young  man  who  was  in  command  in  the 
chiefs  absence.  '  I  wish  to  say  that  I  am  tired  of  a  shep- 
herd's life,'  was  Yampa's  reply.  'Ah,  I  understand,'  said 
the  lieutenant ;  '  and  you  seek  admittance  into  our  ranks  1 ' 
'  Welcome  ! '  cried  several  bandits  of  Ferrusino,  Pampi- 
nara,  and  Anagni,  who  had  recognized  Luigi  Vampa.  'Yes, 
but  I  come  to  ask  something  more  than  to  be  your  com- 
panion.' '  And  what  may  that  be  ? '  inquired  the  bandits, 
with  astonishment.  '  I  come  to  ask  to  be  your  captain,' 
said  the  young  man.  The  bandits  shouted  with  laughter. 
'  And  what  have  you  done  to  aspire  to  this  honor  1 '  de- 
manded the  lieutenant.  '  I  have  killed  your  chief,  Cucu- 
metto,  whose  dress  I  now  wear ;  and  I  set  fire  to  the 
Villa  de  San  Felice  to  procure  a  wedding-dress  for  my 
betrothed.'  An  hour  afterwards  Luigi  Vampa  was  chosen 
captain,  vice  Cucumetto  deceased." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Albert,"  said  Franz,  turning  towards 
his  friends,  "  what  think  you  of  citizen  Luigi  Vampa  1 " 

"  I  say  he  is  a  myth,"  replied  Albert,  "and  never  had 
an  existence." 

"  And  what  may  a  myth  be  ?  "  inquired  Pastrini. 

"The  explanation  would  be  too  long,  my  dear  landlord," 
replied  Franz.  "  And  you  say  that  Maltre  Yampa  exer- 
cises his  profession  at  this  moment  in  the  environs  of 
Rome  ] " 

"  Yes,  with  a  boldness  of  which  no  bandit  before  him 
ever  gave  an  example." 
VOL.  I.  —  30 


466  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Then  the  police  have  vainly  tried  to  lay  Lands  on 
him  1 " 

"  Why,  you  see,  he  has  a  good  understanding  with  the 
shepherds  in  the  plains,  the  fishermen  of  the  Tiber,  and 
the  smugglers  of  the  coast.  They  seek  for  him  in  the 
mountains,  and  he  is  on  the  waters ;  they  follow  him  on 
the  waters,  and  he  is  on  the  open  sea.  Then  they  pursue 
him,  and  he  has  suddenly  taken  refuge  in  the  Isle  of  Giglio, 
of  Guanouti,  or  Monte  Cristo ;  and  when  they  hunt  for 
him  there,  he  reappears  suddenly  at  Albano,  Tivoli,  or 
La  Riccia." 

"And  how  does  he  behave  towards  travellers  1  " 

"  Alas  !  his  plan  is  very  simple.  It  depends  on  the 
distance  he  may  be  from  the  city  whether  he  gives  eight 
hours,  twelve  hours,  or  a  day  wherein  to  pay  their  ransom ; 
and  when  that  time  has  elapsed  he  allows  another  hour's 
grace.  At  the  sixtieth  minute  of  this  hour,  if  the  money 
is  not  forthcoming  he  blows  out  the  prisoner's  brains  witb 
a  pistol-shot,  or  plants  his  dagger  in  his  heart,  and  that 
settles  the  account." 

""Well,  Albert,"  inquired  Franz  of  his  companion,  "are 
you  still  disposed  to  go  to  the  Colosseum  by  the  outer 
boulevards  1 " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Albert,  "  if  the  way  be  picturesque." 

The  clock  struck  nine  as  the  door  opened,  and  a  coach- 
man appeared.  "  Excellencies,"  said  he,  "  the  coach  is 
ready." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Franz,  "  let  us  to  the  Colosseum." 

"  By  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  or  by  the  streets,  your 
Excellencies  1 " 

"  By  the  streets,  morhleu  !  by  the  streets  ! "  cried  Franz. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Albert,  rising  and  lighting 
his  third  cigar,  "  really,  I  thought  you  had  more  courage." 
So  saying,  the  two  young  men  went  down  the  staircase, 
and  got  into  the  carriage. 


AN  APPARITION.  467 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

AN    APPARITION. 

Franz  had  so  appointed  his  route  that  during  the  ride  to 
the  Colosseum  they  passed  not  a  single  ancient  ruin ;  so 
that  no  gradual  preparation  was  made  on  the  mind  for  the 
colossal  proportions  of  the  gigantic  building  they  came  to 
admire.  The  road  selected  was  a  continuation  of  the  Via 
Sistina  ;  then,  by  cutting  off  the  right  angle  of  the  street 
in  which  stands  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  and  proceeding  by 
the  Via  Urbana  and  San  Pietro  in  Vincoli,  the  travellers 
would  find  themselves  directly  opposite  the  Colosseum. 
This  itinerary  possessed  another  great  advantage,  —  that 
of  leaving  Franz  at  full  liberty  to  indulge  his  deep  revery 
upon  the  subject  of  the  story  recounted  by  Maitre  Pastrini, 
in  which  his  mysterious  host  of  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo 
was  so  strangely  mixed  up.  Seated  with  folded  arms  in 
a  corner  of  the  carriage,  he  continued  to  ponder  over  the 
singular  history  he  had  so  lately  listened  to,  and  to  ask 
himself  an  interminable  number  of  questions  touching  its 
various  circumstances,  without,  however,  arriving  at  a 
satisfactory  reply  to  any  of  them.  One  fact  more  than 
the  rest  brought  his  friend  "  Sinbad  the  Sailor  "  back  to 
his  recollection,  and  that  was  the  mysterious  sort  of  inti- 


468  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

macy  that  seemed  to  exist  between  the  brigands  and  the 
sailors ;  and  Pastrini's  account  of  Vampa's  having  found 
refuge  on  board  the  vessels  of  smugglers  and  fishermen, 
reminded  Franz  of  the  two  Corsican  bandits  he  had  found 
supping  so  amicably  with  the  crew  of  the  little  yacht,  which 
had  even  deviated  from  its  course  and  touched  at  Porto 
Vecchio  for  the  sole  purpose  of  landing  them.  The  very 
name  assumed  by  his  host  of  Monte  Cristo,  and  repeated 
by  the  landlord  of  the  Hotel  de  Londres,  proved  to  him 
that  his  island  friend  was  playing  the  same  philanthropic 
part  on  the  shores  of  Piombino,  Civita  Yecchia,  Ostia,  and 
Gaeta,  as  on  those  of  Corsica,  Tuscany,  and  Spain ;  and  fur- 
ther, Franz  remembered  that  bo  had  spoken  of  Tunis  and 
Palermo,  which  showed  how  far  his  circle  of  acquaintances 
extended. 

But  however  the  mind  of  thi  young  man  might  be  ab- 
sorbed in  these  reflections,  they  wera  at  once  dispersed  at 
the  sight  of  the  dark  frowning  ruins  of  the  stupendous 
Colosseum,  through  the  various  openings  of  which  the 
pale  moonlight  played  and  flickered  like  the  unearthly 
gleam  from  the  eyes  of  the  wandering  dead.  The  carriage 
stopped  near  the  Mesa  Sudans ;  the  door  was  opened ;  and 
the  young  men,  eagerly  alighting,  found  themselves  oppo- 
site a  cicerone,  who  appeared  to  have  sprung  up  from  the 
ground. 

The  usual  guide  from  the  hotel  having  followed  them, 
they  had  two  of  them ;  nor  is  it  possible  at  Rome  to  avoid 
this  superfluity  of  guides.  Besides  the  ordinary  cicerone 
who  seizes  upon  you  when  you  set  foot  in  your  hotel  and 
never  quits  you  while  you  remain  in  the  city,  there  is  also 
a  special  cicerone  belonging  to  each  monument,  • —  nay, 
almost  to  each  part  of  a  monument.  It  may  therefore 
be  easily  imagined  that  there  is  no  scarcity  of  guides  at 
the  Colosseum,  —  that  wonder  of  all  ages,  which  Martial 


AN  APPARITION.  469 

thus  eulogizes  :  "  Let  Memphis  cease  to  toast  the  barbar- 
ous miracles  of  her  pyramids,  and  let  the  wonders  of 
Babylon  be  talked  of  no  more  among  us  ;  all  other  works 
must  give  place  to  the  immense  amphitheatre  of  the 
Caesars,  and  all  voices  of  Fame  should  unite  to  celebrate 
that  monument." 

As  for  Albert  and  Franz,  they  essayed  not  to  escape 
from  their  Ciceronian  tyrants  ;  and  indeed  it  would  have 
been  especially  difficult  to  do  so,  since  the  guides  alone 
are  permitted  to  visit  these  monuments  with  torches  in 
their  hands.  The  young  men  made  no  resistance,  but 
surrendered  themselves  unreservedly  to  their  conductors. 
Franz  had  already  made  ten  similar  excursions  to  the 
Colosseum,  while  his  companion  trod  for  the  first  time 
the  classic  memorial  of  Flavins  Vespasian ;  and  to  his 
credit  be  it  spoken,  his  mind,  even  amid  the  glib  loquacity 
of  the  guides,  was  strongly  impressed.  In  fact,  without 
seeing  it  no  one  can  form  any  idea  of  the  majesty  of  such 
a  ruin,  all  whose  proportions  appear  twice  as  large  in  the 
mysterious  light  of  that  southern  moon,  whose  rays  have 
the  effect  of  a  twilight  in  the  east.  Scarcely  therefore 
had  the  reflective  Franz  walked  a  hundred  steps  beneath 
the  interior  porticos  of  the  ruin,  when  abandoning  Albert 
to  the  guides,  who  would  by  no  means  yield  their  pre- 
scriptive right  to  exhibit  to  him  the  Den  of  Lions,  the 
Gladiators'  Chamber,  and  the  Gallery  of  the  Ccesars,  he 
ascended  a  dilapidated  staircase,  and  leaving  them  to  their 
prescribed  course  of  sight-seeing,  went  quietly  to  sit  in 
the  shadow  of  a  column  and  opposite  a  large  chasm, 
which  permitted  him  to  enjoy  a  full  and  undisturbed 
view  of  the  gigantic  dimensions  of  this  majestic  ruin. 

Franz  had  remained  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  hidden 
by  the  shadow  of  a  column,  whence  his  eyes  followed  the 
motions  of  Albert  and  his  guides,  who,  holding  torches  in 


470  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

their  hands,  had  emerged  from  a  vomitarium  placed  at  the 
opposite  extremity  of  the  Colosseum,  and  then  again  dis- 
appeared down  the  steps  conducting  to  the  seats  reserved 
for  the  Vestal  Virgins,  resembling,  as  they  glided  along, 
some  restless  shades  following  the  flickering  glare  of  so 
many  ignes-fatui,  when  all  at  once  his  ear  caught  a  sound 
resembling  that  of  a  stone  rolling  down  the  staircase  op- 
posite the  one  by  which  he  had  himself  ascended.  There 
was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  circumstance  of  a  piece  of 
granite  giving  way  and  falling  heavily  below;  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  substance  that  fell  gave  way  beneath  the 
pressure  of  a  foot,  and  also  that  some  one  who  endeavored 
as  much  as  possible  to  prevent  his  footsteps  from  being 
heard,  was  approaching  the  spot  where  he  sat.  Conjecture 
soon  became  certainty,  —  for  the  figure  of  a  man  appeared, 
gradually  emerging  from  the  darkness  as  he  ascended  the 
staircase,  the  summit  of  which  was  lighted  by  the  moon, 
while  its  steps  descended  into  obscurity.  He  might  be  a 
traveller  who  like  Franz  preferred  the  enjoyment  of  soli- 
tude and  his  own  thoughts  to  the  frivolous  gabble  of  the 
guides,  —  so  that  his  appearance  there  was  not  surprising  • 
but  the  hesitation  with  which  he  proceeded  onwards,  stop- 
ping and  listening  with  anxious  attention  at  every  step  he 
took,  convinced  Franz  that  he  had  come  with  a  definite 
purpose,  and  that  he  was  expecting  some  one.  By  au 
instinctive  impulse  Franz  withdrew  as  much  as  possible 
behind  his  pillar.  About  ten  feet  from  the  spot  where 
himself  and  the  stranger  were  placed,  the  roof  had  given 
way,  leaving  a  large  round  aperture  through  which  might 
be  seen  the  blue  vault  of  heaven  thickly  studded  with 
stars.  Around  this  opening,  which  had  possibly  for  ages 
permitted  a  free  entrance  to  the  moonlight,  grew  a  quantity 
of  creeping  plants,  whose  delicate  green  branches  stood  out 
in   bold    relief  against  the  clear  azure  of  the  firmament, 


AN  APPARITION".  471 

while  large  masses  of  thick  strong  fibrous  shoots  forced 
their  way  through  the  chasm  and  hung  floating  to  and  fro 
like  so  many  waving  strings.  The  person  whose  mysteri- 
ous arrival  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Franz  stood  in  a 
kind  of  half-light  that  rendered  it  impossible  to  distinguish 
his  features,  although  his  dress  was  easily  made  out.  He 
wore  a  large  brown  mantle,  one  fold  of  which  thrown  over 
his  left  shoulder  served  likewise  to  mask  the  lower  part  of 
his  countenance,  while  the  upper  part  was  completely 
hidden  by  his  broad-brimmed  hat.  The  lower  part  of  his 
dress  was  more  distinctly  visible  by  the  bright  rays  of  the 
moon,  which  entering  through  the  broken  ceiling  showed 
that  he  wore  boots  of  polished  leather,  over  which  de- 
scended trousers  of  black  cloth.  Evidently  he  belonged 
to  high  society,  if  not  to  the  aristocracy. 

After  a  few  moments  the  stranger  began  to  show  signs 
of  impatience,  when  a  slight  noise  was  heard  outside  the 
aperture  in  the  roof,  and  almost  immediately  a  dark  shadow 
seemed  to  obstruct  the  light,  and  the  figure  of  a  man  was 
clearly  seen  gazing  with  eager  scrutiny  on  the  immense 
space  beneath  him  ;  then,  as  he  perceived  the  man  in  the 
mantle,  he  grasped  a  floating  mass  of  thickly-matted  boughs 
and  glided  down  by  their  help  to  within  three  or  four  feet  of 
the  ground,  and  then  leaped  lightly  on  his  feet.  He  wore 
the  costume  of  a  Transteverian. 

"  I  beg  your  Excellency's  pardon  for  keeping  you  wait- 
ing," said  the  man,  in  the  Roman  dialect ;  "  but  I  don't 
think  I  'm  many  minutes  after  my  time.  Ten  o'clock  has 
just  struck  by  the  clock  of  St.  Jean  de  Latran." 

"Say  not  a  word  about  being  late,"  replied  the  stranger, 
in  purest  Tuscan  ;  "  't  is  I  who  am  too  soon.  But  even  if 
you  had  caused  me  to  wait  a  little  while,  I  should  have 
felt  quite  sure  that  the  delay  was  not  occasioned  by  any 
fault  of  yours." 


472  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Your  Excellency  is  right,"  said  the  man;  "I  came 
here  direct  from  the  Chateau  St.  Ange,  and  I  had  an  im- 
mense deal  of  trouble  before  I  could  get  to  speak  to 
Beppo." 

"  And  who  is  Beppo  1 " 

"  Oh,  Beppo  is  employed  in  the  prison  ;  and  I  give  him 
so  much  a  year  to  let  me  know  what  is  going  on  within 
his  Holiness's  chateau." 

"  Indeed  !     You  are  a  provident  person,  I  see." 

*'  Why,  you  see,  no  one  knows  what  may  happen. 
Perhaps  some  of  these  days  I  may  be  entrapped  like  poor 
Peppino,  and  may  be  very  glad  to  have  some  little  nibbling 
mouse  to  gnaw  the  meshes  of  my  net." 

"  Briefly,  what  did  you  learn  1  " 

"  That  two  executions  of  considerable  interest  Avill  take 
place  on  Tuesday,  at  two  o'clock,  as  is  customary  at  Eome 
at  the  commencement  of  all  great  festivals.  One  of  the 
culprits  will  be  mazzolato ;  he  is  an  atrocious  villain, 
who  murdered  the  priest  who  brought  him  up,  and  de- 
serves not  the  smallest  pity.  The  other  sufferer  is  sen- 
tenced to  be  decapitato ;  and  he,  your  Excellency,  is  poor 
Peppino." 

"  What  can  you  expect  1  You  have  inspired  not  only 
the  pontifical  Government,  but  also  the  neighboring  States, 
with  such  fear  that  they  are  glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
make  an  example." 

"  But  Peppino  did  not  even  belong  to  my  band ;  he 
was  merely  a  poor  shepherd,  whose  only  crime  consisted 
in  furnishing  us  with  provisions." 

"  Which  makes  him  your  accomplice  to  all  intents  and 
purposes.  But  mark  the  distinction  with  which  he  is 
treated  :  instead  of  being  knocked  on  the  head  as  you 
would  be  if  once  they  caught  hold  of  you,  he  is  simply 
sentenced  to  be  guillotined.     In  thq^  way  the  amusements 


AN  APPARITION.  473 

of  the  day  are  diversified,  and  there  is  a  spectacle  to  please 
every  spectator." 

*'  Without  reckoning  the  wholly  unexpected  one  I  am 
preparing  to  surprise  them  with." 

'*  My  good  friend,"  said  the  man  in  the  cloak,  "  excuse 
me  for  saying  that  you  seem  to  me  precisely  in  the  mood 
to  commit  some  act  of  folly." 

*'  I  am  in  the  mood  to  prevent  the  execution  of  the 
poor  devil  who  has  got  into  this  scrape  solely  through 
having  served  me.  By  the  Madonna  !  I  should  despise 
myself  as  a  coward  did  I  desert  the  brave  fellow  in  his 
present  extremity." 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  to  do  1 " 

*'  To  surround  the  scaffold  with  twenty  of  my  best  men, 
who  at  a  signal  from  me  will  rush  forward  when  Peppino 
is  brought  for  execution,  and  by  the  assistance  of  their  sti- 
lettos drive  back  the  guard  and  carry  off  the  prisoner." 

"That  seems  to  me  as  hazardous  as  uncertain,  and  I  am 
quite  sure  that  my  scheme  is  far  better  than  yours." 

"And  what  is  your  Excellency's  project  1" 

"  Just  this  :  I  will  so  advantageously  bestow  ten  thou- 
sand piastres  that  the  person  receiving  them  shall  obtain 
a  respite  till  next  year  for  Peppino  ;  and  during  that  year 
I  will  so  bestow  one  thousand  additional  piastres  that  he 
will  escape  from  prison." 

"  And  do  you  feel  sure  of  succeeding  1 " 

"  Fardieu  !  "  exclaimed  in  French  the  man  in  the 
cloak. 

"  "WTiat  did  your  Excellency  say  ? "  inquired  the  other. 

"  I  say,  my  good  fellow,  that  I  will  do  more  single- 
handed  with  my  gold  than  you  and  all  your  band  could 
effect  with  stilettos,  pistols,  carbines,  and  blunderbusses 
included.  Leave  me,  then,  to  act,  and  have  no  feajs  for 
the  result." 


474  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Very  good  !  but  if  you  fail,  we  shall  he  ready." 

"  Take  what  precautions  you  please,  but  rely  upon  my 
obtaining  the  reprieve." 

"  Remember  the  execution  is  fixed  for  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, and  that  you  have  but  one  day  to  work  in." 

"And  what  then?  Is  not  a  day  divided  into  twenty- 
four  hours,  each  hour  into  sixty  minutes,  and  every  min- 
ute subdivided  into  sixty  seconds  ?  Now,  in  86,400 
seconds  very  many  things  can  be  done." 

"  And  how  shall  I  know  whether  your  Excellency  has 
succeeded  or  noti" 

"  Oh  !  that  is  very  easily  arranged.  I  have  engaged  the 
three  lower  windows  at  the  Cafe  Rospoli ;  should  I  have 
obtained  the  requisite  pardon  for  Peppino,  the  two  outside 
windows  will  be  hung  with  yellow  damask,  and  the  centre 
with  white  having  a  large  cross  in  red  marked  on  it." 

"  And  whom  wiU  you  employ  to  carry  the  reprieve  to 
the  officer  directing  the  execution  1 " 

"  Send  one  of  your  men  disguised  as  a  penitent  friar, 
and  I  will  give  it  to  him ;  in  that  dress  he  can  approach 
the  scaffold  itself  and  deliver  the  official  order  to  the  offi- 
cer who  in  his  turn  will  hand  it  to  the  executioner.  In 
the  mean  time,  acquaint  Peppino  with  what  we  have  de- 
termined on,  to  prevent  his  dying  of  fear  or  losing  his 
senses ;  in  either  case  a  useless  expense  will  have  been 
incurred  for  him." 

"Your  Excellency,"  said  the  man,  "you  are  fully  per- 
suaded of  my  entire  devotion  to  you,  are  you  not  t  " 

"Nay,  I  flatter  myself  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
it,"  replied  the  cavalier  in  the  cloak. 

"Well,  then,  if  you  save  Peppino,  henceforward  you 
shall  receive  not  only  devotedness,  but  obedience." 

"  Have  a  care  how  far  you  pledge  yourself,  my  good 
friend,  for  I  may  remind  you  of  your  promise  at  some  per- 


AN  APPARITION.  475 

haps  not  very  distant  period,  when  I,  in  my  turn,  may 
require  your  aid  and  influence." 

"  Let  that  day  come  sooner  or  later,  your  Excellency 
will  find  me  what  I  have  found  you  in  this  my  heavy 
trouble ;  and  if  from  the  other  end  of  the  world  you  but 
write  me  word  to  do  such  or  such  a  thing,  conclude  it 
done,  for  done  it  shall  be,  on  the  word  and  faith  of  —  " 

"  Hush  !  "  interrupted  the  stranger  ;  "  I  hear  a  noise." 

"  'T  is  some  travellers  who  are  visiting  the  Colosseum 
by  torchlight." 

"  'T  were  better  Ave  should  not  be  seen  together.  Those 
guides  are  nothing  but  spies,  and  might  possibly  recognize 
you;  and  however  I  may  be  honored  by  your  friendship, 
my  worthy  friend,  if  once  the  extent  of  our  intimacy 
were  known,  I  am  afraid  my  reputation  would  suffer 
thereby." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  obtain  the  reprieve  ? " 

"  The  middle  window  at  the  Cafe  Rospoli  will  be  hung 
with  white  damask  bearing  on  it  a  red  cross." 

"  And  if  you  fail  ] " 

"  Then  all  three  windows  will  have  yellow  draperies." 

"And  thenl" 

"  And  then,  my  good  fellow,  use  your  daggers  in  any 
way  you  please ;  and  I  further  promise  you  to  be  there  as 
a  spectator  of  your  prowess." 

"All  is  then  understood  between  us.  Adieu,  your 
Excellency;  depend  upon  me  as  firmly  as  I  do  upon 
you." 

Saying  these  words,  the  Transteverian  disappeared 
down  tlie  staircase ;  while  his  companion,  muffling  his 
features  more  closely  than  before  in  the  folds  of  his 
mantle,  passed  almost  close  to  Franz,  and  descended  to 
the  arena  by  an  outward  flight  of  steps.  The  next  min- 
ute Franz  heard  himself  called  by  Albert,  who  made  the 


476  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

lofty  building  re-echo  with  the  sound  of  his  friend's  name. 
Franz,  however,  did  not  obey  the  summons  till  he  had 
satisfied  himself  the  two  men  had  gone,  —  not  wishing 
them  to  learn  that  there  had  been  a  witness  of  tlieir  in- 
terview who,  if  unable  to  recognize  their  faces,  had  at 
least  heard  every  word  that  passed.  Ten  minutes  later 
Franz  was  on  the  road  to  the  Hotel  d'Espagne,  hstening 
with  indifference  to  the  learned  dissertation  delivered  by 
Albert,  after  the  manner  of  Pliny  and  Calpurnius,  touch- 
ing the  iron-pointed  nets  used  to  prevent  the  ferocious 
beasts  from  springing  on  the  spectators.  Franz  let  him 
proceed  without  interruption ;  he  longed  to  be  alone  that 
he  might  without  interruption  ponder  over  all  that  had 
occurred.  One  of  those  two  men  was  an  entire  stranger 
to  him,  but  not  so  the  other ;  and  though  Franz  had  been 
unable  to  distinguish  his  features,  wrapped  in  his  mantle 
or  obscured  by  the  shadow,  the  tones  of  his  voice  had 
made  too  powerful  an  impression  on  him  the  first  time 
he  heard  them  for  him  ever  to  forget  them.  There  was 
especially  in  his  tones  of  raillery  a  certain  metallic  vibra- 
tion which  had  startled  him  among  the  ruins  of  the  Colos- 
seum as  in  the  grotto  of  Monte  Cristo.  He  was  therefore 
well  satisfied  that  this  man  was  no  other  than  "  Sinbad 
the  Sailor." 

^N'ow,  under  any  other  circumstances,  so  great  was  his 
curiosity  about  this  strange  being,  Franz  would  have  made 
himself  known  to  him ;  but  in  the  present  instance,  the 
confidential  nature  of  the  conversation  he  had  overheard 
suggested  to  him  the  reasonable  apprehension  that  his  ap- 
pearance at  such  a  time  would  be  anything  but  agreeable. 
As  we  have  seen,  therefore,  he  had  allowed  the  man  to  de- 
part without  addressing  him,  —  promising  himself  that  if 
he  should  meet  him  again  he  would  not  allow  him  to  es- 
cape a  second  time.     In  vain  did  Franz  endeavor  to  forget 


AN  APPARITION.  477 

the  many  perplexing  thoughts  which  assailed  him ;  in  vain 
did  he  court  the  refreshment  of  sleep.  Slumber  refused 
to  visit  his  eyelids,  and  his  night  was  passed  in  feverish 
contemplation  of  the  chain  of  circumstances  tending  to 
prove  the  identity  of  the  mysterious  visitant  to  the  Colos- 
seum and  the  inhabitant  of  the  grotto  of  Monte  Cristo ; 
and  the  more  he  thought,  the  firmer  grew  his  opinion  on 
the  subject.  "Worn  out  at  length,  he  fell  asleep  at  day- 
break and  did  not  awake  till  late.  Like  a  genuine  French- 
man, Albert  had  employed  his  time  in  arranging  for  the 
evening's  diversion.  He  had  sent  to  engage  a  box  at  the 
Teatro  Argentino ;  and  Franz,  having  a  number  of  letters 
to  write,  relinquished  the  carriage  to  Albert  for  the  whole 
of  the  day.  At  five  o'clock  Albert  returned ;  he  had  de- 
livered his  letters  of  introduction,  had  received  invitations 
for  all  his  evenings,  and  had  seen  Rome.  A  day  had  suf- 
ficed Albert  for  all  that ;  and  he  had  also  had  time  enough 
to  ascertain  the  name  of  the  piece  to  bo  played  that  night 
at  the  Teatro  Argentino,  and  also  Avhat  performers  appeared 
in  it. 

The  opera  of  "  Parisina  "  was  announced  for  represen- 
tation, and  the  principal  actors  were  Coselli,  Moriani, 
and  La  Spech.  The  young  men  had  reason  to  con- 
sider themselves  fortunate  in  having  the  opportunity  of 
hearing  one  of  the  best  works  by  the  composer  of  "  Lucia 
di  Lammermoor,"  supported  by  three  of  the  most  renowned 
vocalists  of  Italy.  Albert  had  never  been  able  to  endure 
the  Italian  theatres,  which  have  orchestras  from  which  it 
is  impossible  to  see,  and  no  balconies  or  open  boxes ;  these 
defects  pressed  hard  on  a  man  who  had  his  stall  at  the 
BoufFes,  and  his  share  in  the  omnibus-box  at  the  opera. 
^Nevertheless,  Albert  displayed  his  most  dazzling  and  effec- 
tive costume  whenever  he  visited  the  theatres.  It  was 
wasted  splendor,  —  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  one  of  the 


478  THE   COUNT   OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

most  worthy  representatives  of  Parisian  fashion  had  over- 
run Italy  for  four  months  without  meeting  with  a  single 
adventure. 

Sometimes  Albert  would  affect  to  make  a  joke  of  his 
want  of  success,  but  internally  he  was  deeply  mortified 
that  he,  Albert  de  Morcerf,  one  of  the  young  men  most 
sought  after,  should  still  have  only  his  labor  for  his  pains. 
And  the  thing  was  the  more  annoying  because  with  the 
characteristic  modesty  of  a  Frenchman,  Albert  had  quitted 
Paris  with  the  full  conviction  that  he  had  only  to  show 
himself  in  Italy  to  carry  all  before  him,  and  that  upon  his 
return  he  should  astonish  the  Parisian  world  with  the  re- 
cital of  his  numerous  love  affairs.  Alas  !  none  of  those 
interesting  adventures  fell  in  his  way.  The  lovely  coun- 
tesses —  Genoese,  Florentine,  and  Neapolitan  —  were  all 
faithful,  if  not  to  their  husbands,  at  least  to  their  lovers ; 
and  Albert  had  gained  the  painful  conviction  that  the 
women  of  Italy  have  at  least  this  advantage  over  those  of 
France,  that  they  are  faithful  to  their  infidelity.  I  would 
not  venture  to  deny  that  in  Italy,  as  everywhere  else,  there 
are  exceptions.  Albert,  besides  being  an  elegant,  well- 
looking  young  man,  was  also  possessed  of  considerable 
talent  and  ability ;  moreover,  he  was  a  viscount,  —  a  re- 
cently created  one,  certainly,  but  in  the  present  day  it  is 
of  no  consequence  whether  one  dates  from  1399  or  from 
1815.  But  to  crown  all  these  advantages,  Albert  de 
Morcerf  commanded  an  income  of  fifty  thousand  livres,  a 
more  than  sufficient  sum  to  render  him  a  personage  of  con- 
siderable importance  in  Paris.  It  was  therefore  no  small 
mortification  to  him  not  to  have  been  seriously  regarded 
by  any  one  in  any  of  the  cities  which  he  had  visited.  He 
hoped,  however,  to  recover  himself  at  Rome,  — the  Carnival 
being,  in  all  the  countries  of  the  earth  which  celebrate 
that  excellent  institution,  a  period  of  liberty  in  which  even 


AN  APPAEITION.  479 

the  wisest  and  gravest  throw  off  the  usual  rigidity  of 
their  lives,  and  suffer  themselves  to  be  drawn  into  acts 
of  folly. 

The  Carnival  was  to  commence  on  the  morrow ;  there- 
fore Albert  had  not  an  instant  to  lose  in  setting  forth  the 
programme  of  his  hopes,  expectations,  and  claims  to  notice. 
With  this  design  he  had  engaged  a  box  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous part  of  the  theatre,  and  exerted  himself  to  set  off 
his  personal  attractions  by  the  aid  of  an  elaborate  toilet. 
The  box  taken  by  Albert  was  in  the  first  circle,  which  with 
us  is  the  gallery.  The  first  three  tiers  of  boxes  are  equally 
aristocratic,  and  are  called  for  that  reason  "  the  boxes  of 
the  nobility."  The  box  engaged,  which  would  contain  a 
dozen  persons  easily,  had  cost  the  two  friends  a  little  less 
than  a  box  for  four  would  cost  at  the  Ambigu.  Albert 
had  still  another  hope.  If  he  could  engage  the  affection 
of  some  fair  Eoman,  that  would  lead  naturally  to  a  seat  in 
a  carriage,  or  a  place  in  a  princely  balcouy  from  which  he 
might  behold  the  gayeties  of  the  Carnival.  These  united 
considerations  made  Albert  more  lively  and  anxious  to 
please  than  he  had  hitherto  been.  Totally  disregarding 
the  business  of  the  stage,  he  leaned  from  his  box  and 
began  attentively  scrutinizing  the  beauty  of  each  pretty 
woman,  aided  by  a  powerful  lorgnette.  But  alas  !  this  at- 
tempt to  attract  similar  notice  wholly  failed,  —  not  even 
curiosity  had  been  excited ;  and  it  was  but  too  apparent 
that  the  lovely  creatures  into  whose  good  graces  he  was 
desirous  of  stealing  were  all  so  much  engrossed  with 
themselves,  their  lovers,  or  their  own  thoughts,  that  they 
had  not  so  much  as  remarked  him  or  the  pointing  of 
his  glass. 

The  truth  was  that  the  anticipated  pleasures  of  the 
Carnival,  with  the  "  Holy  Week "  that  was  to  succeed  it, 
60  filled  every  fair  breast  as  to  prevent  the  least  attention 


480  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

being  bestowed  even  on  the  business  of  the  stage ;  the 
actors  made  their  entries  and  exits  unobserved  or  un- 
thought  of.  At  certain  conventional  moments  the  specta- 
tors would  suddenly  cease  their  conversation,  or  rouse 
themselves  from  their  musings  to  listen  to  some  brilliant 
effort  of  Moriani's,  a  well-executed  recitative  by  Coselli, 
or  to  join  in  loud  applause  at  the  wonderful  powers  of  La 
Spech ;  but  that  momentary  excitement  over,  they  quickly 
relapsed  into  their  former  state  of  preoccupation  or  inter- 
esting conversation.  Towards  the  close  of  the  first  act 
the  door  of  a  box  which  had  been  hitherto  vacant  was 
opened ;  a  lady  entered  to  whom  Franz  had  been  intro- 
duced in  Paris,  where  indeed  he  had  imagined  she  still 
was.  The  quick  eye  of  Albert  caught  the  involuntary 
start  with  which  his  friend  beheld  the  new  arrival, 
and  turning  to  him,  he  said  hastily,  "  Do  you  know  that 
woman  1 " 

"  Yes  ;  what  do  you  think  of  her  ? " 

"  She  is  supremely  beautiful ;  what  a  complexion ! 
And  such  magnificent  hair  !     Is  she  French  1 " 

"'No;  a  Venetian." 

"  And  her  name  is —  " 

«  Comtesse  G ." 

"  Ah  !  I  know  her  by  name/'  exclaimed  Albert ;  "  she 
is  said  to  possess  as  much  wit  and  cleverness  as  beauty  ! 
Ah  !  when  I  think  that  I  might  have  been  presented  to 
her  at  the  last  ball  of  Madame  de  Villefort,  where  she  was 
present,  and  neglected  the  opportunity,  —  what  a  ninny 
I  was  ! " 

"Shall  I  assist  you  in  repairing  your  negligence?" 
asked  Franz. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  are  you  really  on  such  good  terms 
with  her  as  to  venture  to  take  me  to  her  box?" 

"Why,    I   have   had   the   honor  of  speaking   to   her 


AN  APPARITION.  481 

three  or  four  times  in  my  life ;  but  you  know  that  even 
such  an  acquaintance  as  that  might  warrant  my  doing 
what  you  ask." 

At  this  instant  the  countess  perceived  Franz  and 
graciously  waved  her  hand  to  him,  to  which  he  replied 
by  a  respectful  inclination  of  the  head. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Albert,  "  jon  seem  to  be  on 
excellent  terms  with  the  beautiful  countess  !  " 

"You  are  mistaken  in  thinking  so,"  returned  Franz, 
calmly ;  "  but  you  fall  into  the  same  error  which  leads  so 
many  of  our  countrymen  to  commit  the  most  egregious 
blunders,  —  I  mean  that  of  judging  the  habits  and  customs 
of  Italy  and  Spain  by  our  Parisian  notions.  Believe  me, 
nothing  is  more  fallacious  than  to  form  an  estimate  of  the 
degree  of  intimacy  existing  among  persons  by  the  familiar 
manner  of  their  intercourse ;  there  is  a  similarity  of  feel- 
ing at  this  instant  between  ourselves  and  the  countess,  — 
nothing  more." 

"  Is  there,  indeed,  my  good  feUow  1  Pray  tell  me,  is  it 
sympathy  of  heart  1  " 

"  No  ;  of  taste  !  "  continued  Franz,  gravely. 

**  And  what  is  the  cause  of  it  ?  " 

"  A  visit  to  the  Colosseum,  like  that  which  we  made 
together." 

"  By  moonlight  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Alone  ? " 

**  Very  nearly  so." 

"  And  you  talked  of  —  " 

"  The  dead." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Albert,  "  that  must  have  been  exhila- 
rating. Well,  I  promise  you  that  if  I  have  the  good 
fortune  to  attend  the  beautiful  countess  on  such  a  prome- 
nade, I  shall  talk  to  her  of  the  living." 

VOL.  I.  —  31 


482  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  And  you  will  make  a  mistake.*' 

"  In  the  mean  time  you  will  present  me  to  her,  as  you 
have  promised?" 

"  As  soon  as  the  curtain  falls." 

"  The  first  act  is  devilishly  long." 

"  Hear  the  end ;  it  is  very  fine,  and  Coselli  sings 
admirably." 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  a  figure  ! " 

**  La  Spech,  •  then ;  it  is  impossible  to  be  more 
dramatic." 

"  But  you  must  understand  that  when  one  has  heard 
Sontag  and  Malibran  — " 

"At  least  you  must  admire  Moriani's  style  and 
execution." 

"  I  never  fancied  men  of  his  dark,  ponderous  appear- 
ance singing  with  a  voice  like  a  woman's." 

"My  good  friend,"  said  Franz,  turning  to  him,  while 
Albert  continued  to  point  his  glass  at  every  box  in  the 
theatre,  "you  seem  determined  not  to  approve;  you  are 
really  too  difiicult  to  please." 

The  curtain  at  length  fell  on  the  performances,  to  the 
infinite  satisfaction  of  the  Vicomte  de  Morcerf,  who 
seized  his  hat,  rapidly  passed  his  fingers  through  his  hair, 
arranged  his  cravat  and  wristbands,  and  signified  to  Franz 
that  he  was  waiting  for  him  to  lead  the  way.  Franz,  who 
had  mutely  interrogated  the  countess  and  received  from 
her  a  gracious  smile  in  token  that  he  would  be  welcome, 
did  not  delay  the  gratification  of  Albert's  eager  impa- 
tience, but  began  at  once  the  tour  of  the  house  closely 
followed  by  Albert,  who  availed  himself  of  the  few  min- 
utes required  to  reach  the  opposite  side  of  the  theatre  to 
adjust  his  collar  and  to  arrange  the  lappets  of  his  coat ; 
this  important  task  was  just  completed  as  they  arrived 
at  the  countess's  box.     The  young  man  who  was  seated 


AN  APPARITION.  483 

beside  the  countess  in  the  front  of  the  lo^e  Instantly  rose, 
in  obedience  to  the  Italian  custom,  and  surrendered  his 
place  to  the  strangers,  who,  in  turn,  would  be  expected  to 
retire  upon  the  arrival  of  other  visitors. 

Franz  presented  Albert  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
young  men  of  the  day,  both  as  regarded  his  position  in 
society  and  extraordinary  talents ;  nor  did  he  say  more 
than  the  truth,  for  in  Paris  and  the  circle  in  which  the 
viscount  moved,  he  was  looked  upon  and  cited  as  a  model 
of  perfection.  Franz  added  that  his  companion,  deeply 
grieved  because  he  had  not  been  presented  to  the  countess 
during  her  sojourn  in  Paris,  had  requested  him  (Franz) 
to  remedy  that  misfortune  by  conducting  him  to  her  box, 
and  concluded  by  asking  pardon  for  his  presumption  in 
doing  so.  The  countess  replied  by  a  charming  bow  to 
Albert,  and  extended  her  hand  with  cordial  kindness  to 
Franz.  Albert,  being  invited  by  her,  took  the  vacant 
place  by  her  side,  and  Franz  sat  in  the  second  row  behind 
her.  Albert  was  soon  deeply  engrossed  in  discoursing 
upon  Paris  and  Paris  matters,  speaking  to  the  countess  of 
the  various  persons  they  both  knew  there.  Franz  perceived 
how  completely  he  was  in  his  element,  and  unwilling  to 
interfere  with  the  pleasure  he  so  evidently  felt,  took  up 
Albert's  lorgnette,  and  began  in  his  turn  to  survey  the 
audience.  Sitting  alone,  in  the  front  of  a  box  immedi- 
ately opposite,  but  situated  in  the  third  tier,  was  a  woman 
of  exquisite  beauty,  dressed  in  a  Greek  costume,  which 
it  was  evident  from  the  ease  and  grace  with  which  she 
wore  it  was  her  national  attire.  Behind  her,  but  in  deep 
shadow,  was  the  outline  of  a  male  figure ;  but  the  features 
of  this  latter  personage  it  was  not  possible  to  distinguish. 
Franz  could  not  forbear  breaking  in  upon  the  apparently 
interesting  conversation  passing  between  the  countess  and 
Albert,  to  inquire  of  the  former  if  she  knew  who  was  the 


484  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

fair  Albanian  opposite,  since  beauty  such  as  hers  was  well 
worthy  of  being  remarked  by  either  sex. 

"  All  I  can  tell  you  about  her,"  replied  the  countess, 
"  is  that  she  has  been  at  Eome  since  the  beginning  of  the 
season,  —  for  I  saw  her  where  she  now  sits  the  very  first 
night  of  the  theatre's  opening ;  and  since  then  she  has 
never  missed  a  performance.  Sometimes  she  is  accom- 
panied by  the  individual  who  is  with  her,  and  at  others 
merely  attended  by  a  black  servant." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  her  personal  appearance  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  consider  her  perfectly  lovely,  —  she  is  just  my 
idea  of  what  Medora  must  have  been." 

Franz  and  the  countess  exchanged  a  smile ;  and  then  the 
latter  resumed  her  conversation  with  Albert,  while  Franz 
returned  to  his  previous  survey  of  the  house  and  company. 
The  curtain  rose  on  the  ballet,  which  was  one  of  those 
excellent  specimens  of  tbe  Italian  school,  arranged  and  put 
on  the  stage  by  Henri,  who  has  established  for  himself  a 
great  reputation  throughout  Italy  for  his  taste  and  skill  in 
the  chorographic  art,  —  one  of  those  masterly  productions 
of  grace,  method,  and  elegance  in  which  the  whole  corps 
de  ballet,  from  the  principal  dancers  to  the  humblest  super- 
numerary, are  all  engaged  on  the  stage  at  the  same  time  ; 
and  a  hundred  and  fifty  persons  may  be  seen  exhibiting 
the  same  attitude,  or  elevating  the  same  arm  or  leg  with  a 
simultaneous  movement.  The  ballet  was  called  "  Poliska." 
However  much  the  ballet  might  have  claimed  his  attention, 
Franz  was  too  deeply  occupied  with  the  beautiful  Greek 
to  take  any  note  of  it,  while  she  seemed  to  experience  an 
almost  childlike  delight  in  watching  it ;  her  eager,  animated 
looks  contrasted  strongly  with  the  utter  indifference  of  her 
companion,  who  during  the  whole  time  the  piece  lasted 
never  even  moved,  spite  of  the  furious  crashing  din  pro- 
duced by  the  trumpets,  cymbals,  and  Chinese  bells,  made 


AN  APPARITION.  485. 

to  produce  their  loudest  sound  from  the  orchestra.  The 
apathetic  companion  of  the  fair  Greek  took  no  heed  of  the 
deafening  sounds  that  prevailed,  but  was  apparently  en- 
joying soft  repose  and  bright  celestial  dreams.  The  ballet 
at  length  came  to  a  close ;  and  the  curtain  fell  amid  the 
frenzied  plaudits  of  an  enthusiastic  audience. 

Owing  to  the  very  judicious  plan  of  dividing  the  two  acts 
of  the  opera  with  a  ballet,  the  pauses  between  the  perform- 
ances are  very  short  in  Italy,  —  the  singers  in  the  opera 
having  time  to  rest  themselves  and  change  their  costume 
when  necessary,  while  the  dancers  are  executing  their  pir- 
ouettes and  exhibiting  their  graceful  steps.  The  overture 
to  the  second  act  began  ;  and  at  the  first  sound  of  the 
leader's  bow  across  his  violin,  Franz  observed  the  sleeper 
slowly  arise  and  approach  the  Greek  girl,  who  turned 
round  to  say  a  few  words  to  him,  and  then  leaning  for- 
ward again  on  the  railing,  became  as  absorbed  as  before 
in  what  was  going  on.  The  countenance  of  the  person 
who  had  addressed  her  remained  so  completely  in  the 
shade  that  Franz  could  not  distinguish  his  features.  The 
curtain  was  raised,  and  the  attention  of  Franz  was  attracted 
by  the  actors  ;  his  eyes  wandered  for  a  moment  from  the 
box  containing  the  beautiful  Greek  to  watch  the  scene  on 
the  stage. 

Most  of  my  readers  are  aware  that  the  second  act  of 
"  Parisina  "  opens  with  the  celebrated  and  effective  duet 
in  which  Parisina,  while  sleeping,  betrays  to  Azzo  the 
secret  of  her  love  for  Ugo.  The  injured  husband  goes 
through  all  the  workings  of  jealousy  until  conviction 
seizes  on  his  mind  ;  and  then  in  a  frenzy  of  rage  and 
indignation,  he  awakens  his  guilty  wife  to  tell  her  he 
knows  her  guilt,  and  to  threaten  her  with  his  vengeance. 
This  duet  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  expressive,  and 
terrible  that  have  emanated  from  the  fruitful  pen  of  Doni* 


V 


486  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

zetti.  Franz  now  listened  to  it  for  the  third  time ;  and 
though  he  was  not  especially  susceptible  to  the  power  of 
music,  it  produced  upon  him  a  profound  effect.  He  rose 
with  the  audience  and  was  about  to  join  in  the  loud, 
enthusiastic  applause  that  followed,  but  suddenly  his 
purpose  was  arrested,  his  hands  fell  by  his  sides,  and  the 
half-uttered  "  bravos  "  expired  on  his  lips.  The  occupant 
of  the  box  in  which  the  Greek  girl  sat  appeared  to  share 
the  universal  admiration  that  prevailed,  for  he  left  his  seat 
to  stand  up  in  the  front ;  so  that  his  countenance  being 
fully  revealed,  Franz  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  him 
as  the  mysterious  inhabitant  of  Monte  Cristo,  and  the 
man  whose  voice  and  figure  he  had  thought  he  recognized 
the  preceding  evening  in  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum.  All 
doubt  of  his  identity  was  now  at  an  end ;  the  mysterious 
traveller  evidently  resided  at  Rome.  The  surprise  and 
agitation  occasioned  by  this  full  confirmation  of  Franz's 
former  suspicion  had  no  doubt  imparted  a  corresponding 
expression  to  his  features,  —  for  the  countess,  after  gazing 
with  a  puzzled  look  on  his  speaking  countenance,  burst 
into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and  begged  to  know  what  had 
happened. 

*'  Madame  the  Countess,"  returned  Franz,  "  I  asked  you 
a  short  time  since  if  you  knew  any  particulars  respecting 
the  Albanian  lady  opposite  ;  I  ask  now  if  you  know  her 
husband  ? " 

"  Nay,"  answered  the  countess,  "  I  know  no  more  of 
him  than  of  her." 

"  Perhaps  you  never  before  remarked  him  1  " 

"  What  a  question,  —  so  truly  French  !  Do  you  not 
know  that  we  Italians  have  eyes  only  for  the  man  we 
love  ? " 

"  True,"  replied  Franz. 

**  All  I  can  say,"  continued  the  countess,  taking  up  the 


AN  APPARITION.  487 

lorgnette,  and  directing  it  to  the  box  in  question,  "  is  that 
the  gentleman  seems  to  me  as  though  he  had  just  been 
dug  up ;  he  looks  more  like  a  corpse  permitted  by  some 
friendly  grave-digger  to  quit  his  tomb  for  a  while  and 
revisit  this  earth  of  ours  than  anything  human.  How- 
ghastly  pale  he  is  !  " 

"  Oh,  he  is  always  as  colorless  as  you  now  see  him," 
said  Franz. 

"  Then  you  know  him  %  "  asked  the  countess.  *'  Then 
I  will  inquire  of  you  who  he  is." 

"  I  fancy  I  have  seen  him  before  ;  and  I  even  think  he 
recognizes  me." 

"And  I  can  well  understand,"  said  the  countess,  shrug- 
ging up  her  beautiful  shoulders,  as  though  an  involuntary 
shudder  passed  through  her  veins,  "  that  those  who  have 
once  seen  that  man  will  never  be  likely  to  forget  him." 

The  sensation  experienced  by  Franz  was  evidently  not 
pecuhar  to  himself;  another,  and  wholly  uninterested 
person,  felt  the  same  unaccountable  awe  and  misgiving, 
"  Well,"  he  inquired  after  the  countess  had  a  second  time 
directed  her  lorgnette  at  the  loge  of  their  mysterious  vis-a-vis, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  that  man  1 " 

"  Why,  that  he  is  no  other  than  Lord  Euthven  himself 
in  a  living  form." 

This  fresh  allusion  to  Byjon  interested  Franz.  If  any 
man  could  lead  him  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  vampires, 
it  was  the  man  before  him. 

"  I  must  find  out  who  and  what  he  is,"  said  Franz, 
rising  from  his  seat. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  the  countess  ;  "  you  must  not  leave 
me  !  I  depend  upon  you  to  escort  me  home.  Oh,  indeed, 
I  cannot  permit  you  to  go  !  " 

"  Is  it  possible,"  whispered  Franz,  "  that  you  entertain 
any  fear  ] " 


488  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  I  '11  tell  you,''  answered  the  countess.  "  Byron  swore 
to  me  that  he  believed,  in  the  existence  of  vampires,  and 
even  assured  rue  that  he  had  seen  them.  He  described  to 
me  their  appearance ;  it  is  precisely  like  his,  —  the  coal 
black  hair,  large  bright  glittering  eyes  in  which  a  wild, 
unearthly  lire  seems  burning,  that  ghastly  paleness.  Then 
observe,  too,  that  the  very  woman  he  has  with  him  is 
altogether  unlike  all  others  of  her  sex.  She  is  a  foreigner 
—  a  Greek  —  a  heretic  —  probably  a  magician  like  him- 
self. I  entreat  of  you  not  to  go  near  him,  —  at  least  to- 
night. And  if  to-morrow  your  curiosity  still  continues  as 
great,  pursue  your  researches  if  you  will ;  but  now  I  mean 
to  keep  you." 

Franz  protested  that  he  could  not  defer  his  pursuit  till 
the  following  day  for  many  reasons. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  the  countess  ;  "  I  am  going  home. 
I  have  a  party  at  my  house  to-night,  and  therefore  cannot 
possibly  remain  till  the  conclusion  of  the  opera.  Will  you 
be  so  discourteous  as  to  refuse  me  your  company  1  " 

There  was  nothing  left  for  Franz  to  do  but  to  take  up 
his  hat,  open  the  door  of  the  lo^e,  and  offer  the  countess 
his  arm.  It  was  quite  evident  from  the  countess's  man- 
ner that  her  uneasiness  was  not  feigned ;  and  Franz  him- 
self could  not  resist  a  species  of  superstitious  dread,  —  the 
stronger  in  him,  as  it  arose  from  a  variety  of  corroborating 
recollections,  while  the  terror  of  the  countess  sprang  from 
an  instinctive  feeling.  Franz  could  even  feel  her  arm 
tremble  as  he  assisted  her  into  the  carriage.  He  conducted 
her  to  her  home.  No  company  was  there ;  and  she  was 
not  expected.     He  reproached  her  about  it. 

"In  very  truth,"  she  said,  "I  am  not  well,  and  I 
need  to  be  alone ;  the  sight  of  that  man  has  completely 
upset  me." 

Franz  began  to  laugh. 


AN  APPARITION.  489 

"Do  not  laugh,"  she  said ;  "  you  really  do  not  feel  like 
laughing.     Now  make  me  a  promise." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Promise  me." 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  desire  except  relinquish  my 
determination  of  finding  out  who  this  man  is.  I  have 
more  reasons  than  you  can  imagine  for  desiring  to  know 
who  he  is,  whence  he  came,  and  whither  he  is  going." 

"  Where  he  comes  from  I  don't  know ;  but  I  can  tell 
you  where  he  is  going,  —  he  is  going  to  hell,  without  the 
least  duubt." 

"  Let  us  return  to  the  promise  you  wished  me  to 
make,"  said  Franz. 

"Well,  then,  you  must  give  me  your  word  to  return 
immediately  to  your  hotel,  and  make  no  attempt  to  follow 
this  man  to-night.  There  are  certain  affinities  between 
the  persons  we  quit  and  those  we  meet  afterwards.  For 
Heaven's  sake,  do  not  serve  as  a  conductor  between  that 
man  and  me !  Pursue  him  to-morrow  as  eagerly  as  you 
please;  but  never  bring  him  near  me  if  you  would  not 
see  me  die  of  terror.  And  now  good-night ;  retire  to 
your  apartment  and  try  to  sleep  away  all  recollections  of 
this  evening.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  quite  sure  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  close  my  eyes."  So  saying,  the  countess 
quitted  Franz,  leaving  him  unable  to  decide  whether 
she  was  merely  amusing  herself  at  his  expense  or  was 
disturbed  by  actual  apprehensions. 

Upon  his  return  to  the  hotel,  Franz  found  Albert  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  listlessly  extended  on  a  sofa, 
smoking  a  cigar.  "  My  dear  fellow  !  "  cried  he,  springing 
up,  "  is  it  really  you  1  Why,  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you 
before  to-morrow." 

"  My  dear  Albert !  "  replied  Franz,  "  I  am  glad  of  this 
opportunity  to  tell  you,  once  and  forever,  that  you  enter- 


490  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

tain  a  most  erroneous  notion  concerning  Italian  women. 
I  should  have  thought  the  continual  failures  you  have 
met  with  in  all  your  own  love  affairs  might  have*- taught 
you  better  by  this  time." 

"  Upon  my  soul !  these  women  would  puzzle  the  very 
Devil  to  read  them  aright.  Why,  here,  —  they  give  you 
their  hand,  they  press  yours  in  return,  they  keep  up  a 
whispering  conversation,  permit  you  to  accompany  them 
home  !  Why,  if  a  Parisian  were  to  do  one  quarter  as 
much  she  would  lose  her  reputation  !  " 

"And  the  very  reason  why  the  women  of  this  fine 
country  put  so  little  restraint  on  their  words  and  actions 
is  that  they  live  so  much  in  public,  and  have  really  noth- 
ing to  conceal.  Besides,  you  must  have  perceived  that 
the  countess  was  really  alarmed." 

"  At  what,  —  at  the  sight  of  that  respectable  gentleman 
sitting  opposite  to  us  with  the  lovely  Greek  1  Now, 
for  my  part,  I  met  them  in  the  lobby  after  the  con- 
clusion of  the  piece ;  and  hang  me,  if  I  can  guess  where 
you  got  your  notions  of  the  other  world !  He  is  a  fine- 
looking  fellow,  well  dressed,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
clothes  himself  in  France,  with  Blin  or  with  Humann,  — 
a  trifle  pale,  indeed,  but  you  know  that  paleness  is  a  mark 
of  distinction." 

Franz  smiled,  —  for  he  well  remembered  that  Albert 
particularly  prided  himself  on  the  entire  absence  of  color 
in  his  own  complexion.  "  Well,  that  tends  to  confirm  my 
own  ideas,"  said  he,  "  that  the  countess's  suspicions  were 
destitute  alike  of  sense  and  reason.  Did  he  speak  in  your 
hearing ;  and  did  you  catch  any  of  his  words  1 " 

"  I  did ;  but  they  were  uttered  in  the  Romaic  dialect. 
I  knew  that  from  the  mixture  of  broken  Greek  words. 
I  must  tell  you,  my  boy,  that  when  I  was  at  college  I 
was  rather  strons  in  Greek." 


AN  APPARITION.  491 

"  He  spoke  the  Eomaic  language,  did  he  ? " 

"I  think  so." 

"  That  settles  it,"  murmured  Franz.  "  'T  is  he,  past 
all  doubt." 

"What  do  you  say?" 

"  Nothing,  nothing !  But  tell  me,  what  were  you 
doing  here  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  was  arranging  a  little  surprise." 

"  Indeed  !     Of  what  nature  1 " 

"Why,  you  know  it  is  quite  impossible  to  procure  a 
carriage." 

"  I  should  think  so,  when  we  have  in  vain  made  every 
possible  endeavor." 

"  Well,  I  have  had  a  marvellous  idea." 

Franz  looked  at  Albert  as  though  he  had  not  much  con- 
fidence in  the  suggestions  of  his  imagination. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  Albert,  "  you  honor  me  with  a 
look  which  well  deserves  that  I  should  demand  satis- 
faction of  you." 

**  And  I  promise  to  give  you  the  satisfaction  of  a  gentle- 
man if  your  scheme  turns  out  as  ingenious  as  you  say 
it  is." 

"WeU,  then,  listen." 

"  I  listen." 

"  You  agree,  do  you  not,  that  obtaining  a  carriage  is  out 
of  the  question  ]  " 

*'  I  do." 

"  Neither  can  we  procure  horses  1 " 

"  True." 

"  But  we  might  procure  a  cart  1  '* 

"Perhaps." 

"  And  a  pair  of  oxen  1  " 

"  Probably." 

"  Then  you  see,  my  good  fellow,  with  a  cart  and  a 


492  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

couple  of  oxen  our  business  can  be  managed.  The  cart  must 
be  tastefully  ornamented  ;  and  if  you  and  I  dress  ourselves 
as  Neapolitan  reapers,  we  may  get  up  a  striking  tableau, 
after  the  manner  of  that  splendid  picture  by  Leopold  Robert. 
It  would  add  greatly  to  the  effect  if  the  countess  would 
join  us  in  the  costume  of  a  peasant  from  Puzzoli  or  Sorrento. 
Our  group  would  then  be  quite  complete,  more  especially 
as  the  countess  is  quite  beautiful  enough  to  be  taken  for 
the  original  of  '  The  Mother  of  the  Child.'  " 

"Well,"  said  Franz,  "this  time,  M.  Albert,  I  am 
bound  to  give  you  credit  for  having  hit  upon  a  capital 
idea." 

"  And  quite  a  national  one,  too,"  replied  Albert,  with 
gratified  pride.  "  A  mere  mask  borrowed  from  our  own 
festivities.  Ha,  ha  !  Messieurs  the  Romans ;  you  thought 
to  make  us  unhappy  strangers  trot  at  the  heels  of  your 
processions,  like  so  many  lazzaroni,  because  no  carriages  or 
horses  are  to  be  had  in  your  beggarly  city.  Very  well ;  we 
have  invented  them." 

"  And  have  you  communicated  your  triumphant  idea  to 
any  person  1 " 

"  Only  to  our  host.  Upon  my  return  home  I  sent  for 
him  and  explained  to  him  my  wishes.  He  assured  me 
that  nothing  would  be  easier.  I  wanted  him  to  have  the 
horns  of  the  oxen  gilded,  but  he  told  me  there  would  not 
be  time,  as  it  would  require  three  days  to  effect  that ; 
so  you  see  we  must  do  without  that  little  superfluity." 

"  And  where  is  he  now  1 " 

"  Who  1 " 

«  Our  host." 

"  Gone  out  in  search  of  our  equipage  ;  by  to-morrow  it 
might  be  too  late." 

"  Then  he  will  be  able  to  give  us  an  answer  to- 
nislit?" 


AN  APPARITION-.  493 

"  Oh,  I  expect  him  every  minute." 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  the  head  of 
Maitre  Pastrini  appeared.     "  Permesso  ?  "  inquired  he. 

*'  Certainly,  certainly  !  "  cried  Franz. 

"  "Now  then,"  asked  Albert,  eagerly,  "  have  you  found 
the  desired  cart  and  oxenl" 

"  Better  than  that !  "  replied  the  Maitre  Pastrini,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  perfectly  well  satisfied  with  himself. 

"  Take  care,  my  worthy  host,"  said  Albert ;  "  better  is  a 
sure  enemy  to  zvelL" 

"  Let  your  Excellencies  only  leave  the  matter  to  me," 
returned  Maitre  Pastrini,  in  a  tone  indicative  of  unbounded 
self-confidence. 

"  But  what  have  you  done?  "  asked  Franz. 

"  Your  Excellencies  are  aware,"  responded  the  landlord, 
swelling  with  importance,  "that  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  is  living  on  the  same  floor  with  yourselves  ! " 

"  I  should  think  we  did  know  it,"  exclaimed  Albert, 
"  since  it  is  owing  to  that  circumstance  that  we  are  packed 
into  these  small  rooms  like  two  poor  students  in  the  back 
streets  of  Paris." 

"  Well,  then,  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  hearing  of  the 
dilemma  in  which  you  are  placed,  has  sent  to  offer  you 
seats  in  his  carriage  and  two  places  at  his  windows  in  the 
Palace  Rospoli." 

Albert  and  Franz  looked  at  each  other.  "  But  do  you 
think,"  asked  Albert,  **  that  we  ought  to  accept  such  offers 
from  a  stranger  1 " 

"  What  sort  of  person  is  this  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  1'* 
asked  Franz  of  his  host. 

"  A  very  great  nobleman,  but  whether  Maltese  or  Sicilian 
I  cannot  exactly  say ;  but  this  I  know,  that  he  is  noble  as 
a  Borghese  and  rich  as  a  gold  mine." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Franz,  speaking  in  an  undertone 


494  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

to  Albert,  "  that  if  this  man  merited  the  high  panegyrics 
of  our  landlord,  he  would  have  conveyed  his  invitation 
through  another  channel,  and  not  permitted  it  to  be 
brought  to  us  in  this  unceremonious  way.  He  would 
have  written,  or  —  " 

At  this  instant  some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  "  Come 
in  ! "  said  Franz.  A  servant,  wearing  a  livery  of  peculiar 
elegance,  appeared  at  the  threshold ;  and  placing  two  cards 
in  the  landlord's  hands,  who  forthwith  presented  them  to 
the  two  young  men,  he  said,  "  From  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte 
Cristo  to  M.  le  Vicomte  Albert  de  Morcerf  and  M.  Franz 


Epinay^  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte  Cristo,"  continued  the 
servant,  "  begs  these  gentlemen's  permission  to  wait  upon 
them  as  their  neighbor  to-morrow  morning,  and  he  desires 
to  know  at  what  time  they  will  please  to  receive  him." 

"  Faith,  Franz,"  whispered  Albert,  "  there  is  not  much 
to  find  fault  with  here." 

"Tell  the  count,"  replied  Franz,  "that  we  will  do  our- 
selves the  pleasure  of  calling  on  him."  The  servant  bowed 
and  retired. 

"  That  is  what  I  call  an  elegant  mode  of  attack,"  said 
Albert.     "  You  were  quite  correct  in  what   you  stated, 
Maitre  Pastrini.     The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  is  unques- 
tionably a  man  of  good  breeding." 
,     "Then  you  accept  his  offer"?  "  said  the  host. 

"  Of  course  we  do,"  replied  Albert.  "  Still,  I  must  own 
I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  cart  and  the  group 
of  reapers  ;  it  would  have  produced  such  an  effect !  And 
were  it  not  for  the  windows  at  the  Palace  Rospoli,  by  way 
of  recompense  for  the  loss  of  our  beautiful  scheme,  I  don't 
know  but  what  I  should  have  held  on  by  my  original  plan. 
"What  say  you,  Franz  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  agree  with  you ;  the  windows  in  the  Palace 
Kospoli  alone  decided  me." 


AN  APPAKITION.  495 

The  mention  of  two  places  in  the  Palace  Rospoli  had 
recalled  to  Franz's  mind  the  conversation  he  had  overheard 
the  preceding  evening  in  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum  be- 
tween the  mysterious  unknown  and  the  Transteverian,  in 
which  the  stranger  in  the  cloak  had  engaged  himself  to 
obtain  the  freedom  of  a  condemned  criminal.  Now,  if  the 
man  with  the  cloak  was,  as  everything  led  Franz  to  be- 
lieve, the  same  as  the  person  he  had  just  seen  in  the  Teatro 
Argentino,  he  would  clearly  recognize  him  ;  and  then  noth- 
ing would  prevent  his  satisfying  his  curiosity  concerning 
him.  Franz  passed  the  night  in  dreaming  of  those  two 
apparitions  and  longing  for  the  morrow.  The  next  day 
must  clear  up  every  doubt ;  and  unless  his  host  of  Monte 
Cristo  possessed  the  ring  of  Gyges,  and  by  its  power  were 
able  to  render  himself  invisible,  it  was  very  certain  he 
could  not  escape  this  time.  Eight  o'clock  found  Franz  up 
and  dressed,  while  Albert,  who  had  not^the  same  motives 
for  early  rising,  was  stUl  profoundly  asleep.  The  first  act 
of  Franz  was  to  summon  his  landlord,  who  presented  him- 
self with  his  accustomed  obsequiousness. 

"Pray,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  asked  Franz,  "is  not  some 
execution  appointed  to  take  place  to-day  1 " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency ;  but  if  your  reason  for  inquiry 
is  that  you  may  procure  a  window,  you  are  much  too 
late." 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  answered  Franz,  "  I  had  no  such  intention ; 
and  even  if  I  had  felt  a  wish  to  witness  the  spectacle,  I 
might  have  done  so  from  Monte  Pincio,  could  I  not  1  " 

"  Oh  !  I  thought  your  Excellency  would  not  wish  to 
mingle  with  the  rabble,  to  whom  that  hill  is  a  sort  of 
natural  amphitheatre." 

"  Very  possibly  I  may  not  go,"  answered  Franz ;  "  but 
give  me  some  particulars." 

"  What  particulars  would  your  Excellency  like  to  hear  1 " 


496  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Why,  the  numher  of  persons  condemned  to  suffer,  their 
names,  and  description  of  the  deatli  they  are  to  die." 

"  That  happens  well,  your  Excellency  !  Only  a  few  min- 
utes ago  they  brought  me  the  tavolettas." 

"  What  are  they  1  " 

"  Wooden  tablets  hung  up  at  the  corners  of  streets  the 
evening  before  an  execution,  on  which  is  pasted  a  paper 
containing  the  names  of  the  condemned  persons,  their 
crimes,  and  mode  of  punishment.  The  purpose  of  this 
notification  is  to  summon  the  faithful  to  pray  that  God 
will  grant  to  the  culprits  a  sincere  repentance." 

"  And  these  tablets  are  brought  to  you  that  you  may 
add  your  prayers  to  those  of  the  faithful,  are  theyl"  asked 
Franz,  somewhat  incredulously. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,  your  Excellency ;  I  have  an  agreement 
with  the  man  who  pastes  up  the  papers,  and  he  brings 
them  to  me  as  he  would  the  play-bills ;  so  that  in  case 
any  person  staying  at  my  hotel  should  like  to  witness 
an  execution,  he  may  obtain  every  requisite  information 
in  season." 

"  Upon  my  word,  that  is  most  delicate  attention  on 
your  part,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  cried  Franz. 

"  Why,  your  Excellency,"  returned  the  landlord,  smil- 
ing, "I  think  I  may  take  upon  myself  to  say  that  I 
neglect  nothing  to  deserve  the  support  and  patronage  of 
the  noble  visitors  to  this  poor  hotel." 

"I  see  that  plainly  enough,  my  most  excellent  host, 
and  you  may  rely  upon  my  repeating  so  striking  a  proof 
of  your  attention  to  your  guests  wherever  I  go.  Mean- 
while, oblige  me  by  a  sight  of  one  of  these  tavolettas." 

"  Nothing  can  be  easier  than  to  comply  with  your  Ex- 
cellency's wish,"  said  the  landlord,  opening  the  door  of 
the  chamber ;  "  I  have  caused  one  to  be  placed  on  the 
landing,  close  by  your  apartments."     Then,   taking  the 


AN  APPARITION.  497 

tablet  from  the  wall,  he  handed  it  to  Franz,  who  read 
as  foUows  :  — 

"  The  public  is  informed  that  on  Wednesday,  February  23, 
being  the  first  day  of  the  Carnival,  two  executions  will  take 
place  in  the  Place  del  Popolo,  by  order  of  the  Tribunal  de  la 
Rota,  of  two  individuals,  named  Andrea  Roudola,  and  Peppino, 
otherwise  called  Rocca  Priori ;  the  former  found  guilty  of  the 
murder  of  a  venerable  and  exemjslary  priest,  named  Don  Cesar 
Torlini,  canon  of  the  church  of  St.  Jean  de  Latran  ;  and  the 
latter  convicted  of  being  an  accomplice  of  the  atrocious  and  san- 
guinary bandit,  Luigi  Vampa,  and  his  band.  The  first-named 
malefactor  will  be  mazzolato,  the  second  culprit  decapitato.  The 
prayers  of  all  charitable  souls  are  entreated  for  these  unfortu- 
nate men,  that  it  may  please  God  to  awaken  them  to  a  sense  of 
their  guilt,  and  to  grant  them  a  hearty  and  sincere  repentance 
for  their  crimes." 

This  was  precisely  what  Franz  had  heard  the  evening 
before  in  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum.  No  part  of  the 
programme  differed.  The  names  of  the  condemned  per- 
sons, their  crimes,  and  mode  of  punishment,  all  agreed 
with  his  previous  information.  In  all  probability,  there- 
fore, the  Transteverian  was  no  other  than  the  bandit 
Ltiigi  Vampa  himself,  and  the  man  shrouded  in  the\ 
mantle  "  Sinbad  the  Sailor,"  who  no  doubt  was  still  \ 
pursuing  "his~pTinarithTopic"cmdertakings  in  Rome  as  hey 
had  already  done  at  Porto  Vecchio  and  Tunis.  Time  was 
getting  on,  however ;  it  was  nine  o'clock,  and  Franz  was 
going  to  awaken  Albert,  when  to  his  great  astonishment 
he  saw  him  come  out  of  his  chamber  fully  dressed.  The 
anticipated  delights  of  the  Carnival  had  so  run  in  Albert's 
head  as  to  make  him  leave  his  pillow  earlier  than  his 
friend  had  expected. 

"  Xow,  my  excellent  Maitre  Pastrini,"  said  Franz, 
addressing  his  landlord,   "  since  we  are  both   ready,  do 

VOL.  I.  — 32 


498  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

you  think  we  may  proceed  at  once  to  visit  the  Count 
of  Monte  Cristor' 

"Most  assuredly,"  replied  he.  "The  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  is  always  an  early  riser ;  and  I  can  answer  for  his 
having  been  up  these  two  hours." 

"  Then  you  really  think  that  we  shall  commit  no  impro- 
priety if  we  pay  our  respects  to  him  immediately  ] " 

"Not  the  least." 

"  In  that  case,  Albert,  if  you  are  ready  —  " 

"  Entirely  ready,"  said  Albert. 

"  Let  us  go  and  thank  our  neighbor  for  his  courtesy." 

"  Come  on." 

The  landlord  preceded  the  friends  across  the  landing, 
which  was  all  that  separated  them  from  the  apartments 
of  the  count,  rang  at  the  bell,  and  upon  the  door  being 
opened  by  a  servant,  said,  "/  Signori  Francesi." 

The  domestic  bowed  respectfully  and  invited  them  to 
enter.  They  passed  through  two  rooms  furnished  with 
a  style  and  luxury  they  had  not  expected  to  find  under 
the  roof  of  Maitre  Pastrini,  and  were  shown  into  an  ele. 
gantly-fitted-up  salon.  The  richest  Turkey  carpets  covered 
tlie  floor,  and  the  softest  and  most  inviting  couches,  her- 
geres,  and  sofas  offered  their  high-piled  and  yielding  cush- 
ions to  such  as  desired  repose  or  refreshment.  Splendid 
paintings  by  the  first  masters  were  ranged  against  the 
walls,  intermingled  with  magnificent  trophies  of  war, 
while  heavy  curtains  of  costly  tapestry  were  suspended 
before  the  different  doors  of  the  room.  "  If  your  Excel- 
lencies will  please  to  be  seated,"  said  the  man,  "  I  will 
let  Monsieur  the  Count  know  that  you  are  here." 

And  with  these  words  he  disappeared  behind  one  of  the 
tapestried  portieres.  As  the  door  opened  the  sound  of  a 
guzla  reached  the  ears  of  the  young  men,  but  was  almost 
immediately  lost,  for  the  rapid  closing  of  the  door  merely 


AN  APPARITION.  499 

allowed  one  ricli  swell  of  harmony  to  enter  the  salon. 
Franz  and  Albert  looked  inquiringly  at  each  other,  then 
at  the  gorgeous  furniture  of  the  apartment.  All  seemed 
even  more  splendid  on  a  second  view  than  it  had  at  first. 

"  Well,"  said  Franz  to  his  friend,  "  what  do  you  think 
of  all  this?" 

"  Why,  upon  my  soul,  my  dear  fellow,  it  strikes  me  our 
neighbor  must  either  be  some  successful  stock-jobber  who 
has  speculated  in  the  fall  of  the  Spanish  funds,  or  some 
prince  travelling  incognito." 

"  Hush !  "  replied  Franz,  "  that  is  what  we  shall  soon 
discover,  —  for  here  he  conies." 

As  Franz  spoke,  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  door  turning 
on  its  hinges ;  and  almost  immediately  afterwards  the  tap- 
estry was  drawn  aside,  and  the  owner  of  all  these  riches 
stood  before  the  two  young  men,  Albert  instantly  rose 
to  meet  him ;  but  Franz  remained  speE-bound  on  his 
chair.  He  who  entered  was  the  mysterious  visitant  to 
the  Colosseum,  the  occupant  of  the  box  at  the  theatre, 
and  the  mysterious  host  of  Monte  Cristo. 


500  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

LA   MAZZOLATA. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  as  he  en- 
tered, "  I  pray  you  to  excuse  me  for  suffering  my  visit  to 
be  anticipated  ;  hut  I  feared  to  disturb  you  by  presenting 
myself  earlier  at  your  apartments.  Besides,  you  sent  me 
word  you  would  come  to  me ;  and  I  have  held  myself  at 
your  disposal." 

*'  Franz  and  I  have  to  thank  you  a  thousand  times, 
Monsieur  the  Count,"  returned  Albert.  "  You  extricated 
us  from  a  great  dilemma ;  and  we  were  on  the  point  of 
inventing  some  very  fantastic  vehicle  when  your  friendly 
invitation  reached  us." 

"  Indeed  !  "  returned  the  count,  motioning  the  two 
young  men  to  sit  down.  "  It  was  the  fault  of  that 
blockhead  Pastrini  that  I  did  not  sooner  assist  you  in 
your  distress.  He  did  not  mention  your  embarrassment 
to  me,  who,  alone  and  isolated  as  I  am,  seek  every  oppor- 
tunity of  making  the  acquaintance  of  my  neighbors.  As 
soon  as  I  learned  I  could  in  any  way  assist  you,  I  eagerly 
seized  the  opportunity  of  offering  my  services." 

The  two  young  men  bowed.  Franz  had  as  yet  found 
nothing  to  say.  He  had  formed  no  plan  of  action ;  and  as 
nothing  in  the  count's  manner  manifested  the  wish  that 
he  should  recognize  him,  he  did  not  know  whether  to 
make  any  allusion  to  the  past,  or  to  wait  until  he  had 
more  proof.     Besides,  although  sure  it  was  he  who  had 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  501 

been  in  the  box  the  previous  evening,  lie  could  not  be 
equally  positive  that  he  was  the  man  he  had  seen  at  the 
Colosseum.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  let  things  take  their 
course  without  making  any  direct  overture  to  the  count. 
Besides,  he  had  this  advantage  over  him,  —  he  was  master 
of  his  secret,  while  he  had  no  hold  on  Franz,  who  had 
nothing  to  conceal.  However,  he  resolved  to  lead  the 
conversation  to  a  subject  which  might  possibly  clear  up 
his  doubts. 

"  Monsieur  the  Count,"  said  he,  "  you  have  offered  us 
places  in  your  carriage,  and  at  your  windows  of  the  Rospoli 
Palace.  Can  you  tell  us  where  we  can  obtain  a  sight  of 
the  Place  del  Popolo  1 " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  count,  negligently,  looking  attentively 
at  Morcerf,  "is  there  not  something  like  an  execution  upon 
the  Place  del  Popolo  1 " 

"  Yes,"  returned  Franz,  finding  that  the  count  was 
coming  to  the  point  he  wished. 

"  Stay,  I  think  I  told  my  steward  yesterday  to  attend 
to  this;  perhaps  I  can  render  you  this  slight  service  also." 
He  extended  his  hand,  and  rang  the  bell  thrice.  **  Did 
you  ever  occupy  yourself,"  said  he  to  Franz,  "  with  the 
employment  of  time  and  the  means  of  simplifying  the 
summoning  your  servants  1  I  have  :  when  I  ring  once,  it 
is  for  my  valet ;  twice,  for  my  mattre  d'hote! ;  thrice,  for 
my  steward.  Thus  I  do  not  waste  a  minute  or  a  word. 
Here  he  is!" 

A  man  from  forty-five  to  fifty  years  old  entered,  who 
exactly  resembled  the  smuggler  who  had  introduced  Franz 
into  the  cavern  ;  but  he  did  not  appear  to  recognize  him. 
It  was  evident  he  had  his  orders. 

"  M.  Bertuccio,"  said  the  count,  "  have  you  procured 
me  a  window  looking  on  the  Place  del  Popolo,  as  I  ordered 
you  yesterday  % " 


502  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes,  Excellency,"  returned  the  steward  ;  "  but  it  was 
very  late." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  wished  for  one  ] "  replied  the 
count,  frowning. 

"  And  your  Excellency  has  one,  which  had  been  let  to 
Prince  Lobanieff;  but  I  was  obliged  to  pay  a  hundred  —  " 

"  That  will  do,  —  that  will  do,  M.  Bertuccio ;  spare 
these  gentlemen  all  such  domestic  arrangements.  You 
have  the  window  ;  that  is  sufficient.  Give  orders  to  the 
coachman  ;  and  be  in  readiness  on  the  stairs  to  conduct 
us  to  it,"  The  steward  bowed,  and  was  about  to  quit  the 
room.  "  Ah  !  "  continued  the  count,  "  be  good  enough 
to  ask  Pastrini  if  he  has  received  the  tavoletta,  and  if  he 
can  send  ua  an  account  of  the  execution." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  do  that,"  said  Franz,  taking  out 
his  tablets  ;  "  for  I  saw  the  account,  and  copied  it  down." 

"  Very  well,  you  can  retire,  M.  Bertuccio ;  let  us  know 
when  breakfast  is  ready.  These  gentlemen,"  added  he, 
turning  to  the  two  friends,  "  will,  I  trust,  do  me  the  honor 
to  breakfast  with  me  ?  " 

"  But,  Monsieur  the  Count,"  said  Albert,  "  we  shall 
abuse  your  kindness." 

"  Not  at  all ;  on  the  contrary,  you  will  give  me  great 
pleasure.  You  will,  one  or  the  other  of  you,  perhaps 
both,  return  it  to  me  at  Paris.  M.  Bertuccio,  lay  covers 
for  three."     He  took  Franz's  tablets  out  of  his  hand. 

"  *  The  public  is  informed,' "  he  read  in  the  same  tone  with 
which  he  would  have  read  a  newspaper,  " '  that  on  Wednesday, 
February  23,  being  the  first  day  of  the  Carnival,  two  executions 
will  take  place  in  the  Place  del  Popolo,  by  order  of  the  Tribunal 
de  la  Rota,  of  two  individuals,  named  Andrea  Rondola,  and 
Peppino,  otherwise  called  Rocca  Priori  ;  the  former  found 
guilty  of  the  murder  of  a  venerable  and  exemplary  priest, 
named  Don  Cesar  Torlini,  canon  of  the  church  of  St.  Jean 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  503 

de  Latran  ;  and  the  latter  convicted  of  being  an  accomplice 
of  the  atrocious  and  sanguinary  bandit,  Luigi  Vampa,  and  his 
band.*  Hum !  '  The  first-named  malefactor  will  be  mazzolato, 
the  second  culprit  decapitato.' 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  count,  "  it  was  at  first  arranged 
in  this  way ;  but  I  think  since  yesterday  some  change  has 
taken  place  in  the  order  of  the  ceremony." 

"  Really  !  "  said  Franz. 

"  Yes ;  I  passed  the  evening  at  the  Cardinal  Rospigliosi's, 
and  there  mention  was  made  of  something  like  a  pardon 
for  one  of  the  two  men." 

"  For  Andrea  Ftondolo  1 "  asked  Franz. 

"  No,"  replied  the  count,  carelessly  ;  "  for  the  other  [he 
glanced  at  the  tablets  as  if 'to  recall  tho  name],  for  Peppino, 
called  Rocca  Priori.  You  are  thus  deprived  of  seeing  a 
man  guillotined  ;  but  the  mazzolato  still  remains,  which  is 
a  very  curious  punishment  when  seen  for  the  first  time, 
and  even  the  second,  while  the  other,  as  you  must  know, 
is  very  simple.  The  manddia  never  fails,  never  trembles, 
never  strikes  thirty  times  ineft'ectually,  like  the  soldier 
who  beheaded  the  Comte  de  Chalais,  and  to  whose  tender 
mercy  Richelieu  had  doubtless  recommended  the  sufferer. 
Ah  !  "  added  the  count,  in  a  contemptuous  tone,  "  do  not 
tell  me  of  European  punishments  ;  they  are  in  the  infimcy, 
or  rather  the  old  age,  of  cruelty." 

"  Really,  Monsieur  the  Count,"  replied  Franz,  "  one 
would  think  that  you  had  studied  the  different  tortures 
of  all  the  nations  of  the  world." 

"  There  are,  at  least,  few  tliat  I  have  not  seen,"  said  the 
count,  coldly. 

"  And  you  took  pleasure  in  beholding  these  dreadful 
spectacles  ] " 

"  My  first  sentiment  was  horror ;  the  second  indifference  ; 
the  third  curiosity." 


504  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Curiosity  !  that  is  a  terrible  word," 

"  Why  so  ?  lu  life,  our  greatest  preoccupation  is  death. 
Is  it  not,  then,  curious  to  study  the  different  ways  by  which 
the  soul  and  body  can  part ;  and  how,  according  to  their 
different  characters,  temperaments,  and  even  the  different 
customs  of  their  countries,  individuals  bear  the  transition 
from  life  to  death,  from  existence  to  annihilation  1  As 
for  myself,  I  can  assure  you  of  one  thing,  —  the  more 
men  you  see  die,  the  easier  it  becomes  to  die  ;  and  in 
my  opinion,  death  may  be  a  torture,  but  it  is  not  an 
expiation." 

"  1  do  not  quite  understand  you,"  replied  Franz;  "pray 
explain  your  meaning,  for  you  excite  my  curiosity  to  the 
highest  pitch." 

"  Listen,"  said  the  count,  and  deep  hatred  mounted  to 
his  face  as  the  blood  would  to  the  face  of  any  other.  "  If 
a  man  had  by  unheard-of  and  excruciating  tortures  de- 
stroyed your  father,  your  mother,  your  mistress,  —  in  a 
word,  one  of  those  beings  who  when  they  are  torn  from 
you  leave  a  desolation,  a  wound  that  never  closes,  in  your 
breast, — do  you  consider  sufficient  the  reparation  that 
society  gives  you  by  causing  the  knife  of  the  guillotine 
to  pass  between  the  base  of  the  occiput  and  the  trapezal 
muscles  of  the  murderer,  and  by  inflicting  a  few  seconds' 
physical  pain  upon  him  who  has  caused  you  years  of 
moral  sufferings  1 " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Franz,  "that  human  justice  is 
insufficient  to  console  us.  She  can  give  blood  in  return 
for  blood,  —  that  is  all;  but  you  must  demand  from  her 
only  what  it  is  in  her  power  to  grant." 

'•  I  will  put  another  case  to  you,"  continued  the  count : 
"  that  where  society,  attacked  by  the  death  of  a  person, 
avenges  death  by  death.  But  are  there  not  a  thousand 
tortures  by  which  a  man  may  be  made  to  suffer  without 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  505 

society  taking  the  least  cognizance  of  them,  or  offering 
him  even  the  insufficient  means  of  vengeance  of  which  wo 
have  just  spoken]  Are  there  not  crimes  for  which  the 
impalement  of  the  Turks,  the  augers  of  the  Persians,  the 
stake  and  tlie  brand  of  the  Iroquois  Indians,  would  be 
inadequate  punishment,  and  wliich  nevertheless  society, 
indifferent,  leaves  unpunished  ]  Answer  me,  do  not  these 
crimes  exist  ?•" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Franz ;  "  and  it  is  to  punish  them 
that  duelling  is  tolerated." 

"Ah,  duelling!"  cried  the  count,  —  "a  pleasant  manner, 
upon  ray  soul,  of  arriving  at  your  end  when  that  end  is 
vengeance  !  A  man  has  carried  off  your  mistress ;  a  man 
has  seduced  your  wife ;  a  man  has  dishonored  your  daugh- 
ter, —  he  has  rendered  the  whole  life  of  one  who  had  the 
right  to  expect  from  Heaven  that  portion  of  happiness 
God  has  promised  to  every  one  of  his  creatures  an  exist- 
tence  of  misery  and  infamy;  and  you  think  you  are 
avenged  because  you  send  a  ball  through  the  head,  or  pass 
a  sword  through  the  breast  of  that  man  who  has  planted 
madness  in  your  brain  and  despair  in  your  heart,  —  with- 
out considering  that  it  is  often  he  who  comes  off  victorious 
from  the  strife,  cleared  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  in  a 
manner  absolved  by  God  !  No,  no,"  continued  the  count; 
"  had  I  to  avenge  myself,  it  is  not  thus  I  would  take 
revenge." 

"  Then  you  disapprove  of  duelling ;  you  would  not 
fight  a  duel  ] "  asked  Albert,  in  his  turn,  astonished  at 
this  strange  theory. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  replied  the  count ;  "  understand  me,  I  would 
fight  a  duel  for  a  trifle,  for  an  insult,  for  a  blow ;  and  the 
more  readily  because,  thanks  to  my  skill  in  all  bodily 
exercises  and  the  indifference  to  danger  I  have  gradually 
acquired,  I  should  be  almost  certain  to  kill  my  man.     Oh, 


506  THE   COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

I  would  fight  for  such  a  cause ;  but  in  return  for  a  slow, 
profound,  eternal  torture,  I  would  give  hack  the  same, 
were  it  possilile  :  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth, 
as  the  Orientalists  say,  —  our  masters  in  everything ; 
those  favored  creatures  who  have  formed  for  themselves  a 
life  of  dreams  and  a  paradise  of  realities." 

"But,"  said  Franz  to  the  count,  "with  this  theory, 
which  renders  you  at  once  judge  and  executioner  of  your 
own  cause,  it  would  be  difficult  to  adopt  a  course  in  which 
you  would  always  avoid  falling  under  the  power  of  the 
law.  Hatred  is  blind ;  rage  carries  you  away ;  and  he 
who  pours  out  vengeance  runs  the  risk  of  tasting  a  bitter 
draught." 

"  Yes,  if  he  be  poor  and  inexperienced ;  not  if  he  be 
rich  and  skilful.  Besides,  the  worst  that  could  happen  to 
him  would  be  the  punishment  of  which  we  have  already 
spoken,  and  which  the  philanthropic  French  Revolution 
has  substituted  for  being  torn  to  pieces  by  horses,  or 
broken  on  the  wheel.  "What  matters  this  punishment,  as 
long  as  he  is  avenged  1  On  my  word,  I  almost  regret  that 
in  all  probability  this  miserable  Peppino  will  not  be  de- 
capitato,  as  you  might  have  had  an  opportunity  then  of 
seeing  how  short  a  time  the  punishment  lasts,  and  whether 
it  is  worth  even  mentioning  —  but  really  this  is  a  most 
singular  conversation  for  the  Carnival,  gentlemen ;  how 
did  it  arise  1  Ah,  I  recollect  I  you  asked  for  a  place  at 
my  window.  You  shall  have  it ;  but  let  us  first  sit  down 
to  table,  for  here  comes  the  servant  to  inform  us  that 
breakfast  is  ready."  As  he  spoke,  a  servant  opened  one 
of  the  four  doors  of  the  salon,  saying,  "  Al  suo  com- 
modo ! "  The  two  young  men  rose  and  entered  the 
breakfast-room. 

During  the  meal,  which  was  excellent,  and  admirably 
served,  Franz  looked  repeatedly   at  Albert,   in  order  to 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  507 

remark  tlie  impression  which  he  doubted  not  had  been 
made  on  him  by  the  words  of  their  entertainer ;  but 
whether  with  his  usual  carelessness  he  had  paid  but  little 
attention  to  him ;  whether  the  explanation  of  the  Count  of 
Monte  Cristo  with  regard  to  duelling  had  satisfied  him  ;  or 
whether  the  events  which  Franz  knew  of  had  redoubled  for 
him  alone  the  effect  of  the  count's  theories,  —  he  remarked 
that  his  companion  was  not  at  all  preoccupied,  but  on  the 
contrary  ate  like  a  man  who  for  the  last  four  or  five 
months  had  been  condemned  to  partake  of  Italian  cookery, 
—  that  is,  the  worst  in  the  world.  As  for  the  count,  he 
just  touched  the  dishes ;  it  seemed  as  if  he  fulfilled  the 
duties  of  an  entertainer  by  sitting  down  with  his  guests, 
and  awaited  their  departure  to  be  served  with  some  strange 
or  more  delicate  food.  This  brought  back  to  Franz,  in 
spite  of  himself,  the  recollection  of  the  terror  with  which 

the  count  had  inspired  the  Comtesse  G ,  and  her  firm 

conviction  that  the  man  in  the  opposite  box  was  a 
vampire.  At  the  end  of  the  breakfast  Franz  took  out  his 
"watch. 

"  Well,"  said  the  count,  "  what  are  you  doing  ? " 

"You  must  excuse  us,  Monsieur  the  Count,"  returned 
Franz ;  "  but  we  have  still  much  to  do." 

"  What  may  that  be  1 " 

"  We  have  no  disguises ;  and  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  procure  them." 

"  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  that ;  we  have,  I  think, 
a  private  room  in  the  Place  del  Popolo.  I  will  have  what- 
ever costumes  you  choose  brought  to  us,  and  you  can 
dress  there." 

"  After  the  execution  1  "  cried  Franz. 

"  Before  or  after,  as  you  please." 

"  Opposite  the  scaflTold  ?  " 

"  The  scaffold  forms  part  of  the  fete." 


508  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Monsieur  the  Count,  I  have  reflected  on  the  matter," 
said  Franz.  "  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  but  I  shall 
content  myself  with  accepting  a  place  in  your  carriage  and 
at  your  window  at  the  Rospoli  Palace ;  and  I  leave  you  at 
liberty  to  dispose  of  my  place  at  the  Place  del  Popolo." 

"  But  I  warn  you,  you  will  lose  a  very  curious  sight," 
returned  the  count. 

"  You  will  relate  it  to  me,"  replied  Franz ;  "  and  the 
recital  from  your  lips  will  make  as  great  an  impression  ou 
me  as  if  I  had  witnessed  it.  I  have  more  than  once 
intended  witnessing  an  execution,  but  I  have  never  been 
able  to  make  up  my  mind ;  and  you,  Albert  1 " 

"  I,"  replied  the  viscount,  —  "I  saw  Castaing  executed  ; 
but  I  think  I  was  rather  intoxicated  that  day,  for  I  had 
quitted  college  the  same  morning,  and  we  had  passed  the 
previous  night  at  a  tavern." 

"  Besides,  the  fact  that  you  have  not  done  a  thing  in 
Paris  is  no  reason  for  your  not  doing  it  abroad  ;  when  you 
travel,  it  is  to  see  everything.  Think  what  a  figure  you 
will  make  when  you  are  asked,  '  How  do  they  execute  at 
Rome  1 '  and  you  reply,  '  I  do  not  know '  !  And  they  say 
that  the  culprit  is  an  infamous  scoundrel,  who  killed  with 
a  log  of  wood  a  worthy  canon  who  had  brought  him  up 
like  his  own  son.  The  devil !  when  a  churchman  is  killed, 
it  should  be  with  a  different  weapon  than  a  log,  especially 
when  he  has  behaved  like  a  father.  If  you  went  to  Spain, 
would  you  not  see  the  bull-fights  1  Well,  suppose  it  is  a  bull- 
fight that  we  are  going  to  see.  Recollect  the  ancient  Ro- 
mans of  the  Circus,  and  the  sports  where  they  killed  three 
hundred  lions  and  a  hundred  men.  Think  of  the  eighty 
thousand  applauding  spectators,  the  sage  matrons  who  took 
their  daughters,  and  the  charming  Vestals  who  made  with 
the  thumb  of  their  white  hands  the  fatal  sign  that  said, 
'  Come,  no  idling  !  kill  me  that  man,  already  nearly  dead.' " 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  509 

"  Shall  you  go,  then,  Albert  1  "  asked  Franz, 

"  Ma  foi  /  yes.  Like  you,  I  hesitated,  but  the  count's 
eloquence  decides  me  !  " 

"  Let  us  go,  then,"  said  Franz,  "  since  you  wish  it ;  but 
ou  our  way  to  the  Place  del  Popolo,  I  wish  to  pass  through 
the  Rue  du  Cours.    Is  this  possible,  Monsieur  the  Count  1 " 

"  On  foot,  yes ;  in  a  carriage,  no  !  " 

"  I  will  go  on  foot,  then  !  " 

"  Is  it  important  that  you  should  pass  through  this 
street ] " 

**  Yes,  there  is  something  I  wish  to  see." 

"  Well,  we  will  pass  by  the  Eue  du  Cours.  "We  will 
send  the  carriage  to  wait  for  us  on  the  Place  del  Popolo, 
by  the  Strada  del  Babuino,  for  I  shall  be  glad  to  pass,  my- 
self, through  the  Rue  du  Cours,  to  see  if  some  orders  I  have 
given  have  been  executed." 

"  Excellency,"  said  a  servant,  opening  the  door,  "  a  man 
in  the  dress  of  a  penitent  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  returned  the  count  j  "  I  know  who  he  is, 
gentlemen.  Will  you  return  to  the  salon  ?  You  will  find  on 
the  centre-table  some  excellent  Havana  cigars.  I  will  be 
with  you  directly." 

The  young  men  rose  and  returned  into  the  salon,  while 
the  count,  again  apologizing,  left  by  another  door.  Albert 
who  was  a  great  smoker,  and  who  had  considered  it  no 
small  sacrifice  to  be  deprived  of  the  cigars  of  the  Cafe  de 
Paris,  approached  the  table,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  at 
perceiving  some  veritable  2mros. 

"  Well,"  asked  Franz,  "what  do  you  think  of  the  Count 
of  Monte  Cristo?" 

"  What  do  I  think  1  "  said  Albert,  evidently  surprised 
at  such  a  question  from  his  companion.  "  I  think  that  he 
is  a  delightful  fellow,  who  does  the  honors  of  his  table 
admirably ;  who  has  travelled  much,  read  much,  is,  like 


510  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

Brutus,  of  the  Stoic  school ;  and  moreover,"  added  he, 
sending  a  volume  of  smoke  up  towards  the  ceiling,  "  that 
he  has  excellent  cigars." 

Such  was  Albert's  opinion  of  the  count :  and  as  Franz 
well  knew  that  Albert  professed  never  to  form  an  opinion 
except  upon  long  reflection,  he  made  no  attempt  to  change 
it.  "■  But,"  said  he,  "  did  you  remark  one  very  singular 
thing  ? " 

"What?" 

"  How  attentively  he  looked  at  you." 

"  At  me  1 " 

"Yes." 

Albert  reflected.  "  Ah  !  "  replied  he,  sighing,  "  that  is 
not  very  surprising.  I  have  been  more  than  a  year  absent 
from  Paris,  and  my  clothes  are  of  a  most  antiquated  cut ; 
the  count  takes  me  for  a  provincial.  The  first  opportu- 
nity you  have,  undeceive  him,  I  beg,  and  tell  him  I  am 
nothing  of  the  kind." 

Franz  smiled ;  an  instant  after,  the  count  entered.  "  I 
am  now  quite  at  your  service,  gentlemen,"  said  he.  "  The 
carriage  is  going  one  way  to  the  Place  del  Popolo,  and  we 
will  go  another ;  and  if  you  please,  by  the  Rue  du  Cours. 
Take  some  of  these  cigars,  M.  de  Morcerf." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  returned  Albert ;  "  these  Italian 
cigars  are  horrible.  When  you  come  to  Paris,  I  will  re- 
turn all  this." 

"  I  will  not  refuse.  I  intend  going  there  soon  ;  and  since 
you  allow  me,  I  will  pay  you  a  visit.  Come;  we  have 
not  any  time  to  lose,  it  is  half- past  twelve,  —  let  us  set 
ofi"!" 

All  three  descended  ;  the  coachman  received  his  master's 
orders,  and  drove  down  the  Via  del  Babuino,  while  the 
three  gentlemen  walked  towards  the  Place  d'Espagne  and 
the  Via  Frattina,  which  led  directly  between  the  Fiano 


LA  MAZZOLATA,  511 

and  Rospoli  Palaces.  All  Franz's  attention  was  directed 
towards  the  windows  of  the  palace  last  named,  for  he  had 
not  forgotten  the  signal  agreed  upon  between  tTie  man  in 
the  mantle  and  the  Transteverian  peasant.  "  Which  are 
your  windows  1 "  asked  he  of  the  count,  with  as  much  in- 
difference as  he  could  assume. 

"  The  last  three,"  returned  he,  with  a  negligence  evi- 
dently unaffected,  —  for  he  could  not  imagine  with  what 
intention  the  question  was  put.  Franz  glanced  rapidly 
towards  the  three  windows.  The  side  windows  were  hung 
with  yellow  damask,  and  the  centre  one  with  white  dam- 
ask and  a  red  cross.  The  man  in  the  mantle  had  kept  his 
promise  to  the  Transteverian,  and  there  could  now  be  no 
doubt  that  he  was  the  count.  The  three  windows  were 
still  untenanted.  Preparations  were  making  on  every 
side ;  chairs  were  placed,  scaffolds  were  raised,  and  win- 
dows were  hung  with  flags.  The  masks  could  not  ap- 
pear ;  the  carriages  could  not  move  about  until  the  strik- 
ing of  the  clock ;  but  the  masks  were  visible  behind  the 
windows,  the  carriages  behind  all  the  gates. 

Franz,  Albert,  and  the  count  continued  to  descend  the 
Rue  du  Cours.  As  they  approached  the  Place  del  Popolo 
the  crowd  became  more  dense,  and  above  the  heads  of  the 
multitude  two  objects  were  visible,  —  the  obelisk,  sur- 
mounted by  a  cross,  which  marks  the  centre  of  the  place  ; 
and  before  the  obelisk  at  the  jDoint  where  the  three  streets, 
del  Babuino,  del  Corso,  and  di  Ripetta  meet,  the  two  up- 
rights of  the  scaffold,  between  which  glittered  the  curved 
knife  of  the  manda'ia.  At  the  corner  of  the  street  they 
met  the  count's  steward,  who  was  awaiting  his  master. 
The  window,  hired  doubtless  at  an  exorbitant  price, 
which  the  count  had  wished  to  conceal  from  his  guests,  was 
on  the  second  floor  of  the  great  palace,  situated  between 
the  Rue  del  Babuino  and  the  Monte  Pincio.     It  belonged. 


512  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

as  we  have  said,  to  a  small  dressing-room,  openiug  into 
a  bedroom ;  and  when  the  door  of  communication  was 
shut,  the  inmates  were  quite  alone.  On  the  chairs  were 
laid  elegant  costumes  of  paillasse,  in  blue  and  white 
satin. 

"  As  you  left  the  choice  of  your  costumes  to  me,"  said 
the  count  to  the  two  friends,  "  I  have  had  these  brought, 
as  they  will  be  the  most  worn  this  year ;  and  they  are  most 
suitable,  on  account  of  the  confetti,  as  they  do  not  show  the 
flour." 

Franz  heard  the  words  of  the  count  but  imperfectly,  and 
he  perhaps  did  not  fully  appreciate  this  new  attention,  for 
he  was  wholly  absorbed  by  the  spectacle  that  the  Place  del 
Popolo  presented,  and  by  the  terrible  instrument  which  at 
that  moment  was  its  principal  ornament.  It  was  the  first 
time  Franz  had  ever  seen  a  guillotine,  —  we  say  guillotine 
because  the  Roman  matida/ia  is  formed  on  almost  the  same 
model  as  the  French  instrument ;  the  knife,  which  is  shaped 
like  a  crescent,  that  cuts  with  the  convex  side,  falls  from 
a  less  height,  and  that  is  all  the  difference.  Two  men, 
seated  on  the  movable  plank  on  which  the  culprit  is  laid, 
were  eating  their  breakfast  while  waiting  for  the  criminal. 
Their  repast  consisted  apparently  of  bread  and  sausages. 
One  of  them  lifted  the  plank,  took  thence  a  flask  of  wine, 
drank  some  and  then  passed  it  to  his  companion.  Tliese 
two  men  were  the  executioner's  assistants.  At  this  sight 
Franz  felt  the  perspiration  start  forth  upon  his  brow. 

The  prisoners,  transported  the  previous  evening  from 
the  Carceri  Nuovo  to  the  little  church  of  Santa  Maria 
del  Popolo,  had  passed  the  night,  each  accompanied  by 
two  priests,  in.  a  chapel  closed  by  a  grating  before  which, 
were  two  sentinels,  relieved  at  intervals.  A  double  line 
of  carbineers,  placed  on  each  side  of  the  door  of  the  church, 
reached  to  the  scaffold  and  formed  a  circle  round  it,  leav- 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  513 

ing  a  patli  about  ten  feet  Avide,  and  around  tlie  guillotine 
a  space  of  nearly  a  hundred  feet.  All  the  rest  of  the  place 
was  paved  with  heads  of  men  and  women.  Many  women 
held  their  infants  on  their  shoulders,  and  thus  the  chil- 
dren had  the  best  view.  The  Monte  Pincio  seemed  a 
vast  amphitheatre  fiUed  with  spectators.  The  balconies 
of  the  two  churches  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  del  Babuino 
and  the  Rue  di  Ripetta  were  crammed ;  the  steps  even 
seemed  a  parti-colored  sea,  that  was  impelled  towards 
the  portico ;  every  niche  in  the  wall  held  its  living 
statue.  What  the  count  said  was  true,  —  the  most  curi- 
ous spectacle  in  life  is  that  of  death. 

And  yet,  instead  of  the  silence  which  the  solemnity  of 
the  spectacle  would  seem  to  demand,  a  great  noise  arose 
from  that  crowd,  —  a  noise  composed  of  laughter  and  joy- 
ous shouts ;  it  was  evident  that  this  execution  was  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people  only  the  commencement  of  the  Carni- 
val. Suddenly  the  tumult  ceased  as  if  by  magic ;  the 
doors  of  the  church  opened.  A  brotherhood  of  penitents 
clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  robes  of  gi'ay  sackcloth,  with 
holes  for  the  eyes  alone,  and  holding  in  their  hands  lighted 
tapers,  appeared  first ;  the  chief  marched  at  the  head.  Be- 
hind the  penitents  came  a  man  of  lofty  stature.  He  was 
naked,  with  the  exception  of  cloth  drawers,  at  the  left 
side  of  which  hung  a  large  knife  in  a  sheath,  and  he  bore 
on  his  right  shoulder  a  heavy  mace.  This  man  was  the 
executioner.  He  had,  moreover,  sandals  bound  on  his  feet 
by  cords.  Behind  the  executioner  came,  in  the  order  in 
which  they  were  to  die,  first  Peppino,  and  then  Andrea. 
Each  was  accompanied  by  two  priests.  Neither  had  his 
eyes  bandaged.  Peppino  walked  with  a  firm  step,  doubt- 
less aware  of  what  awaited  him.  Andrea  was  supported 
by  two  priests.  Each  of  them  kissed  from  time  to  time 
the  crucifix  a  confessor  held  out  to  them.     At  this  sight 

VOL.  I.  — 33 


514  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

alone  Franz  felt  his  legs  tremtle  under  him.  He  looked 
at  Albert ;  he  was  white  as  his  shirt,  and  mechanically 
cast  away  his  cigar,  although  he  had  not  half  smoked  it. 
The  count  alone  seemed  unmoved,  —  nay,  more,  a  slight 
color  seemed  striving  to  rise  in  his  pale  cheeks.  His  nos- 
tril dilated  hke  that  of  a  wild  beast  that  scents  its  prey ; 
and  his  lips,  half-opened,  disclosed  his  white  teeth,  small 
and  sharp  like  those  of  a  jackal.  And  yet  his  features 
wore  an  expression  of  smiling  tenderness,  such  as  Franz 
had  never  before  witnessed  in  them ;  his  black  eyes  es- 
pecially were  full  of  kindness  and  pity.  However,  the 
two  culprits  advanced,  and  as  they  approached,  their  faces 
became  visible.  Peppino  was  a  handsome  young  man, 
twenty-four  or  twenty-five  years  old,  bronzed  by  the  sun ; 
he  carried  his  head  erect,  and  seemed  to  sniff  the  air  to  as- 
certain on  which  side  his  liberator  would  appear.  Andrea 
was  short  and  fat ;  his  visage,  marked  with  brutal  cruelty, 
did  not  indicate  age ;  he  might  be  thirty.  In  prison  he 
had  suffered  his  beard  to  grow ;  his  head  fell  on  his  shoul- 
der, his  legs  bent  beneath  him,  and  he  seemed  to  obey  a 
mechanical  movement  of  which  he  was  unconscious. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Franz  to  the  count,  "  that  you  told 
me  there  would  be  but  one  execution." 

"I  told  you  the  truth,"  replied  he,  coldly. 

"  However,  here  are  two  culprits." 

"  Yes ;  but  only  one  of  these  two  is  about  to  die.  The 
other  has  long  years  to  live." 

"  If  the  pardon  is  to  come,  there  is  no  time  to  lose." 

"  And  see,  here  it  comes  ! "  said  the  count. 

At  the  moment  when  Peppino  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
mandata,  a  penitent,  who  seemed  to  arrive  late,  forced  his 
way  through  the  soldiers,  and  advancing  to  the  chief  of 
the  brotherhood,  gave  him  a  folded  paper.  The  piercing 
eye  of  Peppino  had  noticed  all.    The  chief  took  the  paper, 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  515 

unfolded  it,  and  raising  his  hand,  "  Heaven  "be  praised ! 
and  his  Holiness  also  !  "  said  he,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Here 
is  a  pardon  for  one  of  the  prisoners  !  " 

"  A  pardon  !  "  cried  the  people,  with  one  voice,  —  "a 
pardon !  " 

At  this  cry  Andrea  raised  his  head.  "  Pardon  for  whom  1 " 
cried  he.     Peppino  remained  breathless. 

"A  pardon  for  Peppino,  called  Eocca  Priori,"  said  the 
principal  friar;  and  he  passed  the  paper  to  the  officer 
commanding  the  carbineers,  who  read  and  returned  it 
to  him. 

*'  For  Peppino  ! "  cried  Andrea,  who  seemed  aroused 
from  the  torpor  in  which  he  had  been  plunged.  "Why 
for  him  and  not  for  me?  We  ought  to  die  together.  I 
was  promised  he  should  die  with  me.  You  have  no  right 
to  put  me  to  death  alone.  I  will  not  die  alone  !  I  will 
not ! "  And  he  broke  from  the  priests,  struggling  and 
raving  like  a  wild  beast,  and  striving  desperately  to  break 
the  cords  that  bound  his  hands.  The  executioner  made 
a  sign,  and  his  assistants  leaped  from  the  scaffold  and 
seized  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  asked  Franz  of  the 
count,  for  as  all  had  been  spoken  in  the  Roman  dialect, 
he  had  not  perfectly  comprehended  it. 

"Do  you  not  seel"  returned  the  count.  "This  human 
creature  who  is  about  to  die  is  furious  that  his  fellow- 
suflferer  does  not  perish  with  him ;  and  were  he  able,  he 
would  rather  tear  him  to  pieces  with  his  teeth  and  nails 
than  let  him  enjoy  the  life  he  himself  is  about  to  be  de- 
prived of.  Oh,  man,  man  !  race  of  crocodiles  !  "  cried  the 
count,  extending  his  clinched  hands  towards  the  crowd, 
"I  recognize  you  well  in  that.  At  all  times  you  are 
worthy  of  yourselves  !  " 

All  this  time  Andrea  and  the  two  executioners  were 


516  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

struggling  on  the  ground ;  and  he  kept  exclaiming,  "  He 
ought  to  die  !  he  shall  die  !  I  wiU  not  die  alone  !  " 

"  Look,  look !  "  cried  the  count,  seizing  the  young  men's 
hands,  —  "  look  !  for  on  my  soul,  it  is  curious.  Here  is  a 
man  who  had  resigned  himself  to  his  fate,  who  was  going 
to  the  scaflfold  to  die,  —  like  a  coward,  it  is  true,  hut  he 
was  ahout  to  die  without  resistance.  Do  you  know  what 
gave  him  strength  ;  do  you  know  what  consoled  him  1 
It  was  that  another  partook  of  his  punishment ;  that 
another  partook  of  his  anguish ;  that  another  was  to 
die  before  him  !  Lead  two  sheep  to  the  butcher's,  two 
oxen  to  the  slaughter-house,  and  make  one  of  them  under- 
stand his  companion  will  not  die,  —  the  sheep  will  bleat 
for  pleasure,  the  ox  will  bellow  with  joy.  But  man,  — 
man,  whom  God  created  in  his  own  image ;  man,  upon 
whom  God  has  laid  his  first,  his  supreme  commandment, 
to  love  his  neighbor;  man,  to  whom  God  has  given  a 
voice  to  express  his  thoughts,  —  what  is  his  first  cry  when 
he  hears  his  fellow-man  is  saved  1  A  blasphemy  !  Honor 
to  man,  this  masterpiece  of  nature,  this  king  of  the  crea- 
tion !  "  And  the  count  burst  into  a  laugh,  but  a  terrible 
laugh,  that  showed  he  must  have  suffered  horribly. 

In  the  mean  time  the  struggle  continued,  and  it  was 
dreadful  to  witness.  The  people  all  took  part  against 
Andrea,  and  twenty  thousand  voices  cried,  "  Kill  him  ! 
Kill  him  !  "  Franz  sprang  back ;  but  the  count  seized 
his  arm  and  held  him  before  the  window.  "What  are 
you  doing  1 "  said  he.  "  Do  you  pity  him  1  If  you  heard 
the  cry  of  '  Mad  dog  ! '  you  would  take  your  gun,  you 
would  unhesitatingly  shoot  the  poor  beast,  who  after  all 
would  be  guilty  only  of  having  been  bitten  by  another 
dog.  And  yet  you  pity  a  man  who,  without  being  bitten 
by  one  of  his  race,  has  yet  murdered  his  benefactor ;  and 
who,  now  unable  to  kill  any  one  because  his  hands  are 


LA  MAZZOLATA.  517 

bound,  wishes  to  see  his  companion  in  captivity  perish. 
No,  no ;  look,  look  ! " 

This  recommendation  was  needless.  Franz  was  fasci- 
nated by  the  horrible  spectacle.  The  two  assistants  had 
borne  Andrea  to  the  scaffold,  and  there,  in  spite  of  his 
struggles,  his  bites,  and  his  cries,  had  forced  him  to  his 
knees.  Meanwhile  the  executioner  had  put  himself  in 
position  by  his  side,  and  lifting  his  mace,  he  signed  to 
them  to  get  out  of  the  way ;  the  criminal  strove  to  rise, 
but  ere  he  had  time,  the  mace  fell  on  his  left  temple.  A 
dull  and  heavy  sound  was  heard,  and  the  man  dropped  like 
an  ox,  with  his  face  to  the  ground,  and  then  turned  over 
on  his  back.  The  executioner  let  fall  his  mace,  drew  his 
knife,  and  with  one  stroke  opened  his  throat,  and  mount- 
ing on  his  stomach,  stamped  violently  on  it  with  his  feet. 
At  every  stroke  a  jet  of  blood  sprang  from  the  wound. 

Franz  could  sustain  himself  no  longer,  but  sank  half- 
fainting  into  a  seat.  Albert,  with  his  eyes  closed,  was 
standing  grasping  the  window-curtains.  The  count  was 
erect  and  triumphant,  like  the  avenging  angeL 


518  THE     COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE    CARNIVAL   AT   ROME. 

When  Franz  recovered  his  senses,  he  saw  Albert  drinking 
a  glass  of  water,  of  which  his  paleness  showed  he  stood  in 
great  need,  and  the  count  assuming  his  costume  of  pa- 
illasse. He  glanced  mechanically  towards  the  place.  All 
had  disappeared, — scaffold,  executioners,  victims;  nought 
remained  but  the  people,  full  of  noise  and  excitement. 
The  bell  of  Monte  Citorio,  which  sounds  only  on  the 
pope's  decease  and  the  opening  of  the  Carnival,  was  ring- 
ing a  joyous  peal.  "Well,"  asked  he  of  the  count,  "  what 
has  then  happened  1 " 

"Nothing,"  replied  the  count;  "only,  as  you  see, 
the  Carnival  has  commenced.  Make  haste  and  dress 
yourself." 

"  In  reality,"  said  Franz,  "  this  horrible  scene  has 
passed  away  like  a  dream." 

"  It  is  indeed  nothing  but  a  dream,  —  a  nightmare  that 
has  disturbed  you." 

"  Yes,  as  to  myself ;  but  the  culprit  1 " 

**  That  is  a  dream  also.  Only  he  has  remained  asleep, 
while  you  have  awakened  ;  and  who  knows  which  of  you 
is  the  most  fortunate  1 " 

"  But  Peppino,  —  what  has  become  of  him  ? " 

"  Peppino  is  a  lad  of  sense  who  unlike  most  men,  who 
are  furious  if  they  pass  unnoticed,  was  delighted  to  see 
that  the  general  attention  was  directed  towards  his  com- 
panion.    He   profited   by  this   distraction  to  slip   away 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROMB.  519 

among  the  crowd,  without  even  thanking  the  worthy 
priests  who  had  accompanied  him.  Decidedly,  man  is  an 
ungrateful  and  egotistical  animal.  But  dress  yourself; 
see,  M.  de  Morcerf  sets  you  the  example." 

Albert  was  in  fact  drawing  on  the  satin  trousers  over 
his  black  trousers  and  varnished  boots.  "  Well,  Albert," 
said  Franz,  "  do  you  feel  much  inclined  to  join  the  revels'? 
Come ;  answer  frankly." 

"  Ma  foi !  no,"  returned  Albert.  "  But  I  am  really 
glad  to  have  seen  such  a  sight ;  and  I  understand  what 
Monsieur  the  Count  said,  —  that  when  you  have  once 
habituated  yourself  to  such  a  spectacle,  it  is  the  only  one 
that  causes  you  any  emotion." 

"  Without  reflecting  that  it  is  the  only  moment  in 
which  you  can  study  characters,"  said  the  count.  "  On 
the  steps  of  the  scaffold  death  tears  off  the  mask  that  has 
been  worn  through  life,  and  the  real  visage  is  disclosed. 
It  must  be  allowed  Andrea  was  not  very  handsome,  —  the 
hideous  scoundrel !  Come,  dress  yourselves,  gentlemen ; 
dress  yourselves ! " 

Franz  felt  that  it  would  be  ridiculous  not  to  follow  his 
two  companions'  example.  He  assumed  his  costume  and 
fastened  on  his  mask,  which  certainly  was  not  paler  than 
his  own  face.  Their  toilet  finished,  they  descended  ;  the 
carriage  awaited  them  at  the  door,  filled  with  confetti  and 
bouquets.  They  fell  into  the  line  of  carriages.  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  form  an  idea  of  the  perfect  change  that  had  taken 
place.  Instead  of  the  spectacle  of  gloomy  and  silent 
death,  the  Place  del  Popolo  presented  a  spectacle  of  gay 
and  noisy  revelry.  A  crowd  of  masks  flowed  in  from  all 
sides,  escaping  from  the  doors,  descending  from  the  win- 
dows. From  every  street  and  every  turn  drove  carriages 
filled  with  pierrots,  harlequins,  dominos,  marchionesses, 
Transteverians,  knights,  and  peasants,  screaming,  fighting, 


520  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

gesticulating,  whirling  eggs  filled  with  flour,  confetti, 
bouquets,  attacking  with  their  sarcasms  and  missiles 
friends  and  foes,  companions  and  strangers,  indiscrimi- 
nately, without  any  one  taking  offence,  or  doing  anything 
else  than  laugh. 

Franz  and  Albert  were  like  men  who  to  drive  away  a 
violent  sorrow  have  recourse  to  wine,  and  who,  as  they 
drink  and  become  intoxicdted,  feel  a  thick  veil  drawn 
between  the  past  and  the  present.  They  saw  always,  or 
rather  they  continued  to  perceive  within  themselves  the 
reflection  of  what  they  had  witnessed ;  but  little  by  little 
the  general  excitement  gained  upon  them,  and  they  felt 
themselves  obliged  to  take  part  in  the  noise  and  confusion. 
A  handful  of  confetti  that  came  from  a  neighboring  car- 
riage, and  which,  while  it  covered  Morcerf  and  his  two 
companions  with  dust,  pricked  his  neck  and  that  portion 
of  his  face  uncovered  by  his  mask  like  a  hundred  pins, 
plunged  him  into  the  general  combat,  in  which  all  the 
masks  around  him  were  engaged.  He  rose  in  his  turn, 
and  seizing  handfuls  of  confetti,  with  which  the  carriage 
was  filled,  cast  them  at  his  neighbors  with  all  the  force 
and  address  he  was  master  of.  The  strife  had  fairly  com- 
menced ;  and  the  recollection  of  what  they  had  seen  half 
an  hour  before  was  gradually  effaced  from  the  young 
men's  minds,  so  much  were  they  occupied  by  the  gay  and 
glittering  procession  they  now  beheld.  As  for  the  Count 
of  Monte  Cristo,  he  had  never  for  an  instant  shown  any 
appearance  of  having  been  moved. 

Imagine  the  large  and  splendid  Rue  du  Cours  bordered 
from  one  end  to  the  other  with  lofty  palaces,  with  their 
balconies  hung  with  carpets,  and  their  windows  with 
flags ;  at  these  balconies  and  windows  three  hundred 
thousand  spectators,  —  Romans,  Italians,  strangers  from 
all  parts  of  the  world;  the  united  aristocracy  of  birth. 


THE  CAKNIVAL  AT  ROME.  521 

wealth,  and  genius ;  lovely  women  who,  yielding  to  the 
influence  of  the  scene,  bend  over  their  balconies  or  lean 
from  their  windows  and  shower  down  upon  the  passing 
carriages  confetti,  which  are  returned  by  bouquets ;  the 
air  seems  darkened  with  falling  confetti  and  ascending 
flowers ;  in  the  streets  the  lively  crowd,  dressed  in  the 
most  fantastic  costumes,  —  gigantic  cabbages  walk  gravely 
about,  bufialoes'  heads  bellow  from  men's  shoulders,  dogs 
walk  on  their  hind  legs ;  in  the  midst  of  all  this  a  mask 
is  lifted,  and  as  in  Callot's  "  Temptation  of  Saint  Anthony," 
a  lovely  face  is  exhibited  which  we  would  fain  follow,  but 
from  which  we  are  separated  by  troops  of  fiends,  —  this 
will  give  a  faint  idea  of  the  Carnival  at  Rome. 

At  the  second  turn  the  count  stopped  the  carriage  and 
asked  of  his  companions  permission  to  quit  them,  leaving 
the  vehicle  at  their  disposal.  Franz  looked  up  j  they  were 
opposite  the  Rospoli  Palace.  At  the  centre  window,  the 
one  hung  with  white  damask  with  a  red  cross,  was  a  blue 
domino,  beneath  which  Franz's  imagination  easily  pictured 
the  beautiful  Greek  of  the  theatre. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  count,  springing  out,  "when 
you  are  tired  of  being  actors,  and  wish  to  become  specta- 
tors of  this  scene,  you  know  you  have  places  at  my  win- 
dows. In  the  mean  time,  dispose  of  my  coachman,  my 
carriage,  and  ray  servants." 

We  have  forgotten  to  mention  that  the  count's  coach- 
man was  attired  in  a  bear-skin  exactly  resembling  Odry's 
in  "  The  Bear  and  the  Pacha  ;"  and  the  two  footmen  be- 
hind were  dressed  up  as  green  monkeys,  with  spring  masks 
with  which  they  made  grimaces  at  every  one  who  passed.  ■ 

Franz  thanked  the  count  for  his  attention.  As  for 
Albert,  he  was  busily  occupied  throwing  bouquets  at  a 
carriage  full  of  Roman  peasants  that  had  halted  near  him. 
Unfortunately  for  him,  the  line  of  carriages  moved  on 


522  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

again,  and  while  he  descended  towards  the  Place  del  Popolo, 
the  other  ascended  towards  the  Palais  de  Venise.  "  Ah  ! 
my  dear  fellow  !  "  said  he  to  Franz ;  "  you  did  not  see  ]  " 

"  What  1 " 

"  There,  —  that  calecke  filled  with  Roman  peasants." 

"No." 

"  Well,  I  am  convinced  they  are  charming  women." 

"  How  unfortunate  you  were  masked,  Albert !  "  said 
Franz ;  "  here  was  an  opportunity  of  making  up  for  past 
disappointments." 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  he,  half  laughing,  half  serious  ;  "  I 
Lope  the  Carnival  will  not  pass  without  hringing  me 
some  compensation." 

But  in  spite  of  Albert's  hope,  the  day  passed  unmarked 
hy  any  incident,  excepting  meeting  two  or  three  times  the 
caleche  with  the  Roman  peasants.  At  one  of  these  en- 
counters, accidentally  or  by  Albert's  intention,  his  mask 
fell  off.  He  instantly  rose  and  cast  the  remainder  of  the 
bouquets  into  the  carriage.  Doubtless  one  of  the  charming 
women  Albert  had  divined  beneath  their  coquettish  dis- 
guise was  touched  by  his  gallantry,  —  for  in  her  turn,  as 
the  carriage  of  the  two  friends  passed  her,  she  threw  a 
bunch  of  violets  into  it.  Albert  seized  it ;  and  as  Franz 
had  no  reason  to  suppose  it  was  sent  to  him,  he  suffered 
Albert  to  retain  it.  Albert  placed  it  in  his  button-hole, 
and  the  carriage  went  triumphantly  on. 

"  Well,"  said  Franz  to  him,  "  here  is  the  commencement 
of  an  adventure." 

"  Laugh  if  you  please ;  I  really  think  so.  So  I  will 
not  abandon  this  bouquet." 

"Fardieu  /"  returned  Franz,  laughing,  "  I  believe  you; 
it  is  a  sign  of  recognition." 

The  jest,  however,  soon  appeared  to  "become  earnest,  — 
for  when  Albert  and  Franz  again  encountered  the  carriage 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  523 

■with  the  contadini,  the  one  who  had  thrown  the  violets 
to  Albert  clapped  her  hands  when  she  beheld  them  in  his 
button-hole. 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  "  said  Franz ;  "  things  go  wonderfully. 
Shall  I  leave  you  ]    Perhaps  you  would  prefer  being  alone  %  " 

"  No,"  replied  he  ;  *'  I  will  not  be  caught  like  a  fool 
at  a  first  demonstration,  by  a  rendezvous  under  the  clock, 
as  they  say  at  the  opera-baUs,  If  the  fair  peasant  wishes 
to  carry  matters  any  farther,  we  shall  find  her,  or  rather 
she  will  find  us  to-morrow  ;  then  she  will  give  me  some 
sign,  and  I  shall  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

"On  my  word,"  said  Franz,  "you  are  wise  as  Nestor  and 
prudent  as  Ulysses  ;  and  your  fair  Circe  must  be  very  skil- 
ful or  very  powerful  if  she  succeed  in  changing  you  into 
a  beast  of  any  kind." 

Albert  was  right ;  the  fair  unknown  had  resolved, 
doubtless,  to  carry  the  intrigue  no  farther  on  that  day  ; 
for  although  the  young  men  made  several  more  turns, 
they  did  not  again  see  the  caliche,  which  had  turned  up 
one  of  the  neighboring  streets.  Then  they  returned  to  the 
Kospoli  Palace  ;  but  the  count  and  the  blue  domino  had 
also  disappeared.  The  two  windows,  hung  with  yellow 
damask,  were  still  occupied  by  persons  whom  probably 
the  count  had  invited.  At  this  moment  the  same  bell 
that  had  proclaimed  the  opening  of  the  Carnival  sounded 
the  retreat.  The  file  on  the  Corso  broke  the  line,  and 
in  a  second  all  the  carriages  had  disappeared.  Franz 
and  Albert  were  opposite  the  Via  delle  Maratte ;  the 
coachman,  without  saying  a  word,  drove  up  it,  passed 
along  the  Place  d'Espagne  and  the  Rospoli  Palace  and 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  hotel.  Maitre  Pastrini  came 
to  the  door  to  receive  his  guests.  Franz's  first  care 
was  to  inquire  after  the  count,  and  to  express  his  regret 
that  he  had  not  returned  in  time  to  take  him ;  but  Pastrini 


524  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

reassured  him  "by  saying  that  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo 
had  ordered  a  second  carriage  for  himself,  and  that  it  had 
gone  at  four  o'clock  to  fetch  him  from  the  Rospoli  Palace. 
The  count  had  moreover  charged  him  to  offer  the  two 
friends  the  key  of  his  box  at  the  Argentina.  Franz  ques- 
tioned Albert  as  to  his  intentions  ;  but  Albert  had  great 
projects  to  put  into  execution  before  going  to  the  theatre, 
and  instead  of  making  any  answer,  he  inquired  if  Maitre 
Pastrini  could  procure  him  a  tailor. 

"  A  tailor  !  "  said  the  host ;  "  and  for  what  *?  " 

"  To  make  us  between  now  and  to-morrow  two  costumes 
of  Roman  peasants,"  returned  Albert. 

The  host  shook  his  head.  "  To  make  you  two  costumes 
between  now  and  to-morrow  1  I  ask  your  Excellencies' 
pardon,  but  this  is  a  demand  quite  French  ;  for  the  next 
week  you  will  not  find  a  single  tailor  who  would  consent 
to  sew  six  buttons  on  a  waistcoat  if  you  paid  him  a  crown 
for  each  button." 

"  Then  I  must  give  up  the  idea  1 " 

"  Xo  ;  we  have  them  ready-made.  Leave  all  to  me ; 
and  to-morrow,  when  you  wake,  you  shall  find  a  collection 
of  costumes  with  which  you  will  be  satisfied." 

"  My  dear  Albert,"  said  Franz,  "  leave  all  to  our  host ; 
he  has  already  proved  himself  full  of  resources.  Let  us 
dine  quietly,  and  afterwards  go  and  see  the  '  Italienne  k 
Alger.' " 

"  Agreed,"  returned  Albert ;  "  but  recollect,  Maitre  Pas- 
trini, that  both  my  friend  and  myself  attach  the  greatest 
importance  to  having  to-morrow  the  costumes  we  have 
asked  for." 

The  host  again  assured  them  they  might  rely  on  him, 
and  that  their  wishes  should  be  attended  to  ;  upon  which. 
Franz  and  Albert  mounted  to  their  apartments,  and  pro- 
ceeded  to   disencumber   themselves   of    their    costumes. 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  525 

AlWt,  as  he  took  off  Lis  dress,  carefully  preserved  the 
bunch  of  violets  ;  it  was  his  sign  of  recognition  for  the 
morrow.  The  two  friends  sat  down  to  table.  Albert 
could  not  refrain  from  remarking  the  difference  between 
the  table  of  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  and  that  of  Maitre 
Pastrini ;  and  Franz,  notwithstanding  the  dislike  he  seemed 
to  have  taken  to  the  count,  was  obliged  to  confess  that  the 
advantage  was  not  on  Pastrini's  side.  During  dessert  the 
servant  inquired  at  what  time  they  wished  for  the  carriage. 
Albert  and  Franz  looked  at  each  other,  fearing  indeed  to 
abuse  the  count's  kindness.  The  servant  understood  them. 
"  His  Excellency  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,"  he  said, 
"  has  given  positive  orders  that  the  carriage  shall  remain 
at  their  Lordships'  orders  all  the  day ;  and  their  Lordships 
therefore  can  use  it  without  fear  of  indiscretion." 

They  resolved  to  profit  by  the  count's  courtesy,  and 
ordered  the  horses  to  be  harnessed,  while  they  substituted 
an  evening  costume  for  that  ■vyhich  they  had  on,  and  which 
was  somewhat  the  worse  for  the  numerous  combats  they 
had  sustained.  This  precaution  taken,  they  went  to  the 
theatre,  and  installed  themselves  in  the  count's  box.  Dur- 
ing the  first  act  the  Comtesse  G entered  hers.     Her 

first  look  was  at  the  loge  where  she  had  seen  the  count  the 
previous  evening,  so  that  she  perceived  Franz  and  Albert 
in  the  box  of  the  very  person  concerning  whom  she  had 
expressed  so  strange  an  opinion  to  Franz.  Her  opera-glass 
was  so  fixedly  directed  towards  them  that  Franz  saw  it 
would  be  cruel  not  to  satisfy  her  curiosity  ;  and  availing 
himself  of  one  of  the  privileges  of  the  spectators  of  the 
Italian  theatres,  which  consists  in  using  their  boxes  as 
reception-rooms,  the  two  friends  quitted  their  box  to  pay 
their  respects  to  the  countess.  Scarcely  had  they  entered 
the  loge  when  she  motioned  to  Franz  to  assume  the  seat 
of  honor.     Albert  in  his  turn  sat  behind. 


526  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

*'  Well,"  said  she,  hardly  giving  Franz  time  to  sit  down, 
"  it  seems  you  have  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  this  new  Lord  Ruthven ;  and  here  you  are, 
the  best  friends  in  the  world," 

"Without  being  so  far  advanced  as  that,  Madame  the 
Countess,"  returned  Franz,  "  I  cannot  deny  that  we  have 
abused  his  good-nature  all  day." 

"All  day?" 

"  Yes ;  this  morning  we  breakfasted  with  him  ;  we  rode 
in  his  carriage  all  day,  and  now  we  have  taken  possession 
of  his  box." 

"  You  know  him,  then  ] " 

**  Yes,  and  no." 

"How  so?" 

"  It  is  a  long  story." 

"  Relate  it  to  me." 

"  It  would  frighten  you  too  much.** 

"  Another  reason." 

"  At  least  wait  until  the  story  has  a  conclusion." 

"  Very  well.  I  prefer  complete  histories  ;  but  tell  me 
how  you  made  his  acquaintance  ]  Did  any  one  introduce 
you  to  him?" 

"  No ;  it  was  he  who  introduced  himself  to  us." 

"  When  ? " 

"  Last  night,  after  we  left  you.** 

"  Through  what  medium  ? " 

"  The  very  prosaic  one  of  our  landlord." 

"  He  is  staying,  then,  at  the  Hotel  des  Londres  with 
you  ? " 

"  Not  only  in  the  same  hotel,  but  on  the  same 
floor." 

"  What  is  his  name,  —  for  of  course  you  know  1 " 

"  The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo." 

"  What  kind  of  a  name  is  that  ?  it  is  not  a  family  name." 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  527 

**  No,  it  is  the  name  of  an  island  he  has  purchased." 

"  And  he  is  a  count  1 " 

"  A  Tuscan  count." 

"  Well,  we  must  put  up  with  that,"  said  the  countess, 
who  was  herseK  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  of  Venice. 
"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ? " 

"  Ask  the  Vicomte  de  Morcerf." 

"  You  hear,  M.  de  Morcerf ;  I  am  referred  to  you,"  said 
the  countess. 

"We  should  be  very  hard  to  please,  Madame,"  returned 
Albert,  "  did  we  not  think  him  delightful ;  a  friend  of  ten 
years'  standing  could  not  have  done  more  for  us,  —  and 
that  with  a  grace,  a  delicacy,  a  courtesy  which  indicate 
clearly  a  man  of  society." 

**  Come,"  observed  the  countess,  smiling,  "  I  see  that 
my  vampire  is  only  some  millionnaire,  who  has  taken  the 
appearance  of  Lara  in  order  to  avoid  being  confounded 
with  M.  de  Rothschild.     And  you  have  seen  her  1 " 

"Her?" 

"  The  beautiful  Greek  of  yesterday." 

**No;  we  heard,  I  think,  the  sound  of  her  guda,  but 
she  remained  invisible." 

"  When  you  say  invisible,"  interrupted  Albert,  "  it  is 
only  to  keep  up  the  mystery ;  for  whom  do  you  take 
the  blue  domino  at  the  window  with  the  white  curtains  %" 

"  Where  was  this  window  with  white  hangings  ?  "  said 
the  countess. 

"  At  the  Rospoli  Palace." 

"  The  count  had  three  windows  at  the  Rospoli  Palace  ? " 

**  Yes.     Did  you  pass  through  the  Rue  du  Cours  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  did  you  remark  two  windows  hung  with  yellow 
damask,  and  one  with  white  damask  with  a  red  cross! 
Those  were  the  count's  windows." 


528  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Why,  he  must  be  a  nabob  !  Do  you  know  what  those 
three  windows  were  worth  1 " 

"  Two  or  three  hundred  Roman  crowns  1  '* 

"  Two  or  three  thousand  ! " 

"The  devil!" 

"  Does  his  island  produce  him  such  a  revenue  1 " 

"  It  does  not  bring  him  a  penny." 

"  Then  why  did  he  purchase  it  1 " 

"For  a  whim." 

"  He  is  an  original,  then  '?  " 

"  In  fact,"  observed  Albert,  "  he  seemed  to  me  some- 
what eccentric  ;  Avere  he  at  Paris,  and  a  frequenter  of  the 
theatres,  I  should  say  that  ho  was  a  malicious  joker  play- 
ing a  part,  or  that  he  was  a  poor  devil  whom  literature  had 
ruined,  —  in  fact,  this  morning  he  made  two  or  three  exits 
worthy  of  Didier  or  Anthony." 

At  this  moment  a  new  visitor  entered,  and  according  to 
custom,  Franz  gave  up  his  seat  to  him.  This  circumstance 
had  moreover  the  effect  of  changing  the  conversation ;  an 
hour  afterwards  the  two  friends  returned  to  their  hotel. 
Maitre  Pastrini  had  already  set  about  procuring  their  dis- 
guises for  the  morrow  ;  and  he  assured  them  they  would 
be  perfectly  satisfied. 

The  next  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  host  entered 
Franz's  room,  followed  by  a  tailor,  who  had  eight  or  ten 
costumes  of  Roman  peasants  on  his  arm  ;  they  selected 
two  exactly  alike,  and  charged  the  tailor  to  sew  on  each  of 
their  hats  about  twenty  yards  of  ribbon,  and  to  procure 
them  two  of  those  long  silken  sashes  of  different  colors 
with  which  the  lower  orders  decorate  themselves  on  fete 
days.  Albert  was  impatient  to  see  how  he  looked  in  his 
new  costume ;  it  was  a  jacket  and  breeches  of  blue  velvet, 
silk  stockings  with  clocks,  shoes  with  buckles,  and  a  silk 
waistcoat.     This  picturesque  attire  set  him  off  to  great  ad- 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  529 

vantage;  and  when  he  had  bound  the  scarf  around  his 
•waist,  and  his  hat,  placed  coquettishly  on  one  side,  let 
fall  on  his  shoulder  a  stream  of  ribbons,  Franz  was  forced 
to  confess  that  costume  has  much  to  do  with  the  physical 
superiority  we  accord  to  certain  nations.  The  Turks,  who 
used  to  be  so  picturesque  with  their  long  and  flowing  robes, 
—  are  they  not  now  hideous  with  their  blue  frocks  but- 
toned up  to  the  chin,  and  their  red  caps,  which  make 
them  look  like  a  bottle  of  wine  with  a  red  seal  ]  Franz 
complimented  Albert,  who  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass 
with  an  unequivocal  smile  of  satisfaction.  They  were  thus 
engaged  when  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  entered. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "although  a  companion  is  agree- 
able, perfect  freedom  is  sometimes  still  more  agreeable.  I 
come  to  say  that  to-day  and  during  the  remainder  of  the 
Carnival,  I  leave  the  carriage  entirely  at  your  disposal. 
The  host  will  tell  you  that  I  have  three  or  four  more,  so 
that  you  do  not  deprive  me  in  taking  it.  Employ  it,  I 
pray  you,  for  your  pleasure  or  your  business." 

The  young  men  wished  to  decline,  but  they  could  find 
no  good  reason  for  refusing  an  offer  which  was  so  agree- 
able to  them.  The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  remained  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  with  them,  conversing  on  all  subjects 
with  the  greatest  ease.  He  was,  as  we  have  already  said, 
well  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  all  countries.  A 
glance  at  the  walls  of  his  salon  proved  to  Franz  and 
Albert  that  he  was  a  lover  of  pictures.  A  few  words  he 
let  fall  showed  them  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  sciences, 
and  he  seemed  especially  interested  in  chemistry.  The 
two  friends  did  not  venture  to  return  to  the  count  the 
breakfast  he  had  given  them ;  it  would  have  been  too  ab- 
surd to  offer  him  in  exchange  for  his  excellent  table  the 
very  inferior  one  of  Maitre  Pastrini,  They  told  him  so 
frankly,  and  he  received  their  excuses  with  the  air  of  a 
VOL.  I. —  34 


530  THE   COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

man  who  appreciated  their  delicacy.  Albert  was  charmed 
with  the  count's  manners,  and  he  was  only  prevented  from 
recognizing  him  for  a  veritable  gentleman  by  his  scientific 
knowledge.  The  permission  to  do  what  he  liked  with  the 
carriage  pleased  him  above  all,  —  for  the  fair  peasants  had 
appeared  in  a  very  elegant  carriage  the  preceding  evening, 
and  Albert  was  not  sorry  to  be  upon  an  equal  footing  with 
them.  At  half-past  one  they  descended  ;  the  coachman  and 
footman  had  put  on  their  livery  over  their  disguises,  which 
gave  them  a  more  ridiculous  appearance  than  ever,  and 
which  gained  them  the  applause  of  Franz  and  Albert. 
Albert  had  fastened  the  faded  bunch  of  violets  to  his 
button-hole.  At  the  first  sound  of  the  bell  they  hastened 
into  the  Eue  du  Cours  by  the  Via  Yittoria.  At  the  sec- 
ond turn,  a  bunch  of  fresh  violets,  thrown  from  a  carriage 
filled  with  paillassines,  indicated  to  Albert  that,  like  him- 
self and  his  friend,  the  peasants  had  changed  their  costume 
also ;  and  whether  it  was  the  result  of  chance,  or  whether 
a  similar  feeling  had  possessed  both  parties,  while  he  had 
taken  their  costume,  they  had  taken  his. 

Albert  placed  the  fresh  bouquet  in  his  button-hole,  but 
he  kept  the  faded  one  in  his  hand ;  and  when  he  again 
met  the  caleche  he  raised  it  expressively  to  his  lips,  —  an 
action  which  seemed  greatly  to  amuse  not  only  the  fair 
lady  who  had  thrown  it,  but  her  joyous  companions  also. 
The  day  was  as  gay  as  the  preceding  one,  perhaps  even 
more  animated  and  noisy ;  they  saw  the  count  for  an 
instant  at  his  window,  but  when  they  again  passed  he 
had  disappeared.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  flirtation 
between  Albert  and  the  fair  peasant  continued  all  day. 
In  the  evening,  on  his  return,  Franz  found  a  letter  from 
the  embassy,  to  inform  him  he  would  have  the  honor  of 
being  received  by  his  Holiness  the  next  day.  At  each 
previous  visit  he  had  made  to  Rome  he  had  solicited  and 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  531 

obtained  the  same  favor ;  and  incited  as  much  by  a  reli- 
gious feeling  as  by  gratitude,  he  was  unwilling  to  quit  the 
capital  of  the  Christian  world  without  laying  his  respect- 
ful homage  at  the  feet  of  one  of  Saint  Peter's  successors, 
who  has  set  a  rare  example  of  all  virtues.  For  that  day, 
then,  he  was  not  in  a  mood  to  think  much  of  the  Carni- 
val, —  for  in  spite  of  his  condescension  and  touching  kind- 
ness, one  cannot  incline  one's  self  without  awe  before  the 
venerable  and  noble  old  man  called  Gregory  XVI. 

On  his  return  from  the  Vatican,  Franz  carefuUy  avoided 
the  Rue  du  Cours ;  he  brought  away  with  him  a  treasure 
of  pious  thoughts,  to  which  the  mad  gayety  of  the  Carni- 
val would  have  been  profanation.  At  ten  minutes  past 
five  Albert  entered.  He  was  at  the  summit  of  joy.  The 
paillassine  had  reassumed  her  peasant's  costume,  and  as 
she  passed  she  had  raised  her  mask.  She  was  charming. 
Franz  congratulated  Albert,  who  received  his  congratula- 
tions with  the  air  of  a  man  conscious  they  are  merited; 
He  had  recognized  by  certain  unmistakable  signs  that  the 
beautiful  unknown  belonged  to  the  aristocracy.  He  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  write  to  her  the  next  day.  Franz 
remarked,  while  he  gave  these  details,  that  Albert  seemed 
to  have  something  to  ask  of  him,  but  that  he  was  unwil- 
ling to  ask  it.  He  insisted  upon  it,  declaring  beforehand 
that  he  was  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  he  required. 
Albert  let  himself  be  pressed  just  as  long  as  friendship 
required,  and  then  avowed  to  Franz  that  he  would  do  him 
a  great  favor  by  allowing  him  to  occupy  the  carriage  alone 
the  next  day.  Albert  attributed  to  Franz's  absence  the 
extreme  kindness  of  the  fair  peasant  in  raising  her  mask. 
Franz  was  of  course  not  selfish  enough  to  stop  Albert  in 
the  middle  of  an  adventure  that  promised  to  prove  so 
agreeable  to  his  curiosity  and  so  flattering  to  his  vanity. 
He  felt  assured  that  the  complete  unreserve  of  his  friend 


532  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

would  duly  inform  him  of  all  that  happened;  and  as 
during  two  or  three  years  that  he  had  travelled  in  Italy 
he  had  found  no  opportunity  to  start  such  an  intrigue  on 
his  own  account,  Franz  was  hy  no  means  sorry  to  learn  how 
to  act  on  such  an  occasion.  He  therefore  promised  Albert 
that  he  would  content  himself  on  the  morrow  with  witness- 
ing the  Carnival  from  the  windows  of  the  Rospoli  Palace. 

The  next  morning  he  saw  Albert  pass  and  repass.  He 
held  an  enormous  bouquet,  which  he  doubtless  meant  to 
make  the  bearer  of  his  amorous  epistle.  This  belief  was 
changed  into  certainty  when  Franz  saw  the  bouquet  (re- 
markable by  a  circle  of  white  camellias)  in  the  hand  of  a 
charming  paillassiiie  dressed  in  rose-colored  satin.  And 
so  when  evening  came  Albert  was  elated,  not  with  joy, 
but  with  delirium ;  he  had  no  doubt  that  the  fair  unknown 
would  reply  in  the  same  manner.  Franz  anticipated  his 
wishes  by  telling  him  that  the  noise  fatigued  him,  and 
that  he  should  pass  the  next  day  in  writing  and  looking 
over  his  journal. 

Albert  was  not  wrong  in  his  expectations,  for  the  next 
evening  Franz  saw  him  enter  shaking  triumphantly  a 
folded  paper  he  held  by  one  corner.  "  Well,"  said  he, 
"  was  I  mistaken  ]  " 

"  She  has  answered  you  !  "  cried  Franz. 

"  Read  ! "  This  word  was  pronounced  in  a  manner 
impossible  to  describe.     Franz  took  the  letter,  and  read  : 

Tuesday  evening,  at  seven  o'clock,  descend  from  your  car- 
riage opposite  the  Via  dei  Pontefici,  and  follow  the  Roman 
peasant  who  snatches  your  moccoletto  from  you.  When  you 
arrive  at  the  first  step  of  the  church  of  San  Giacomo,  be  sure 
to  fasten  a  knot  of  rose-colored  ribbons  to  the  shoulder  of  your 
costume  of  paillasse,  in  order  that  you  may  be  recognized. 
Until  then  you  will  not  see  me. 

Constancy  and  Discretion. 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  533 

"  Well,"  asked  he,  when  Franz  had  finished,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  thati" 

"  I  think  that  the  adventure  is  assuming  a  very  agree- 
able appearance." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  replied  Albert  ;  "  and  I  very 
much  fear  yoa  will  go  alone  to  the  Due  de  Bracciano's 
ball." 

Franz  and  Albert  had  received  that  morning  an  invita- 
tion from  the  celebrated  Roman  banker.  "  Take  care, 
Albert,"  said  Franz.  "  All  the  nobility  of  Rome  will  be 
present ;  and  if  your  fair  unknown  belongs  to  the  higher 
class  of  society,  she  must  go  there." 

"  Whether  she  goes  there  or  not,  my  opinion  is  still  the 
same,"  returned  Albert. 

"  You  have  read  the  letter  1 " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  know  how  imperfectly  the  women  of  the  middle 
class  are  educated  in  Italy  1 " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well ;  read  the  letter  again.  Look  at  the  writing, 
aud  find  a  fault  in  the  language  or  orthography."  The 
writing  was  in  fact  charming,  and  the  orthography 
irreproachable. 

"  You  are  born  to  good  fortune,"  said  Franz,  as  he 
returned  the  letter. 

"  Laugh  as  much  as  you  will,"  replied  Albert,  "  I  am 
in  love." 

"  You  alarm  me,"  cried  Franz.  "  I  see  that  I  shall  not 
only  go  alone  to  the  Due  de  Bracciano's,  but  also  return 
to  Florence  alone." 

"  If  my  unknown  be  as  amiable  as  she  is  beautiful," 
said  Albert,  "  I  shall  fix  myself  at  Rome  for  six  weeks  at 
least.  I  adore  Rome,  and  I  have  always  had  a  great  taste 
for  archaeology." 


534  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Come,  two  or  three  more  sncli  adventures,  and  I  do 
not  despair  of  seeing  you  a  member  of  the  academy." 

Doubtless  Albert  was  about  to  discuss  seriously  his 
right  to  the  academic  chair  when  they  were  informed  that 
dinner  was  ready.  Albert's  love  had  not  taken  away 
his  appetite.  He  hastened  with  Franz  to  seat  himself, 
intending  to  resume  the  discussion  after  dinner.  After 
dinner  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  was  announced.  They 
had  not  seen  him  for  two  days.  Maitre  Pastrini  informed 
them  that  business  had  called  him  to  Civita  Vecchia.  He 
had  started  the  previous  evening,  and  had  returned  only 
an  hour  since.  He  was  charming.  Whether  he  kept  a 
watch  over  himself,  or  whether  accident  did  not  sound 
the  acrimonious  chords  that  certain  circumstances  had 
already  touched,  he  was  like  everybody  else.  This  man 
was  an  enigma  to  Franz.  The  count  must  feel  sure  he 
recognized  him,  and  yet  had  not  let  fall  a  single  word 
that  indicated  he  had  seen  him  anywhere.  On  his  side, 
however  great  Franz's  desire  was  to  allude  to  their  former 
interview,  the  fear  of  its  being  disagreeable  to  the  man 
who  had  loaded  himself  and  his  friend  with  kindness  pre- 
vented him  from  mentioning  it.  The  count  had  learned 
that  the  two  friends  had  sent  to  secure  a  box  at  the 
Argentina  Theatre,  and  were  told  they  were  all  let.  In 
consequence,  he  brought  them  the  key  of  his  own  ;  at 
least  such  was  the  apparent  motive  of  his  visit.  Franz 
and  Albert  made  some  difficulty,  alleging  their  fear  of 
depriving  him  of  it ;  but  the  count  replied  that  as  he 
was  going  to  the  Palli  Theatre,  the  box  at  the  Argentina 
Theatre  would  not  be  used  if  they  did  not  occupy  it. 
This  assurance  determined  the  two  friends  to  accept  it. 

Franz  had  become  by  degrees  accustomed  to  the  count's 
paleness,  which  had  so  forcibly  struck  him  the  first  time 
he  saw  him.     He  could  not  refrain  from  admiring  the 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  535 

severe  beauty  of  his  features,  the  only  defect,  or  rather  the 
principal  quality  of  which  was  the  pallor.  Veritable  hero 
of  Byron  !  Franz  could  not,  we  will  not  say  see  him,  but 
even  think  of  him  without  representing  his  stern  head 
on  the  shoulders  of  Manfred,  or  beneath  the  casque  of 
Lara.  His  forehead  was  marked  by  the  line  that  indi- 
cates the  constant  presence  of  a  bitter  thought ;  he  had 
those  fiery  eyes  that  seem  to  penetrate  to  the  heart,  and 
the  haughty  and  disdainful  upper  lip  that  gives  to  the 
words  it  utters  a  peculiar  character  that  impresses  them, 
on  the  minds  of  those  to  whom  they  are  addressed.  The 
count  was  no  longer  young.  He  was  at  least  forty ;  and 
yet  it  was  easy  to  understand  that  he  was  formed  to  rule 
the  young  men  with  whom  he  was  now  associated.  In 
reality,  to  complete  his  resemblance  with  the  fantastic 
heroes  of  the  English  poet,  the  count  seemed  to  have  the 
power  of  fascination.  Albert  was  constantly  expatiating 
on  their  good  fortune  in  meeting  such  a  man.  Franz  was 
less  enthusiastic  ;  but  the  count  exercised  over  him  also 
the  ascendency  a  strong  mind  always  acquires.  He  thought 
several  times  of  the  project  the  count  had  of  visiting  Paris; 
and  he  had  no  doubt  but  that  Avith  his  eccentric  character, 
his  characteristic  face,  and  his  colossal  fortune,  he  would 
produce  a  great  effect  there.  And  yet  he  did  not  wish  to 
be  at  Paris  when  the  count  was  there. 

The  evenings  passed  as  evenings  mostly  pass  at  Italian 
theatres ;  that  is,  not  in  listening  to  the  music,  but  in  pay- 
ing visits  and  conversing.     The  Comtesse  G wished 

to  revive  the  subject  of  the  count,  but  Franz  announced 
he  had  something  far  newer  to  tell  her ;  and  in  spite  of 
Albert's  demonstrations  of  affected  modesty,  he  informed 
the  countess  of  the  great  event  which  had  preoccupied 
them  for  the  last  three  days.  As  similar  intrigues  are  not 
uncommon  in  Italy,  if  we  may  credit  travellers,  the  count- 


536  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

ess  did  not  manifest  the  least  incredulity,  but  congratulated 
Albert  on  his  success.  They  promised,  upon  separating, 
to  meet  at  the  Due  de  Bracciano's  ball,  to  which  all  Rome 
was  invited.  The  heroine  of  the  bouquet  kept  her  word ; 
neither  on  the  morrow  nor  on  the  day  following  did  she 
give  Albert  any  sign  of  her  existence. 

At  length  arrived  the  Tuesday,  the  last  and  most  tumult- 
uous day  of  the  Carnival.  On  Tuesday  the  theatres  open 
at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  Lent  begins  at  eight  at 
night.  On  Tuesday  all  those  who  through  want  of  money, 
time,  or  enthusiasm  have  not  been  to  see  the  Carnival 
before,  mingle  in  the  gayety,  and  contribute  to  the  noise 
and  excitement.  From  two  o'clock  till  five  Franz  and 
Albert  followed  in  the  procession,  exchanging  handfuls  of 
confetti  with  the  other  carriages  and  the  pedestrians,  who 
crowded  among  the  horses'  feet  and  the  carriage-wheels 
without  a  single  accident,  a  single  dispute,  or  a  single  fight. 
The  fetes  are  veritable  days  of  pleasure  to  the  Italians. 
The  author  of  this  history,  who  has  resided  five  or  six 
years  in  Italy,  does  not  recollect  to  have  ever  seen  a  cere- 
mony interrupted  by  one  of  those  events  which  so  often 
accompany  celebrations  among  ourselves.  Albert  was  tri- 
umphant in  his  costume  oi paillasse.  A  knot  of  rose-colored 
ribbons  fell  from  his  shoulder  almost  to  the  ground.  In 
order  that  there  might  be  no  confusion,  Franz  wore  his 
peasant's  costume. 

As  the  day  advanced,  the  tumult  became  greater.  There 
was  not  on  the  pavement,  in  the  carriages,  at  the  windows, 
a  single  tongue  that  was  silent,  a  single  arm  that  did  not 
move.  It  was  a  human  storm,  composed  of  a  thunder  of 
cries,  and  a  hail  of  confectionery,  flowers,  eggs,  oranges, 
and  bouquets.  At  three  o'clock  the  sound  of  fireworks, 
let  off  on  the  Place  del  Popolo  and  the  Palais  de  Venise, 
heard  with  difficulty  amid  the  din  and  confusion,  announced 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  537 

that  the  races  were  about  to  begin.  The  races,  like  the 
moccoli,  are  one  of  the  episodes  peculiar  to  the  last  days  of 
the  Carnival.  At  the  sound  of  the  fireworks  the  carriages 
instantly  broke  the  ranks,  and  retired  by  the  adjacent 
streets.  All  these  evolutions  are  executed  with  an  incon- 
ceivable address  and  marvellous  rapidity,  without  the 
police  interfering  in  the  matter.  The  pedestrians  ranged 
themselves  against  the  walls ;  then  the  trampling  of  horses 
and  the  clashing  of  steel  were  heard.  A  detachment  of 
carbineers,  fifteen  abreast,  galloped  up  the  Rue  du  Cours 
in  order  to  clear  it  for  the  harberi.  When  the  detachment 
arrived  at  the  Palais  de  Venise,  a  second  volley  of  fireworks 
was  discharged,  to  announce  that  the  street  was  clear. 
Almost  instantly,  in  the  midst  of  a  tremendous  and  gen- 
eral outcry,  seven  or  eight  horses,  excited  by  the  shouts  of 
three  hundred  thousand  spectators,  passed  by  like  light- 
niug.  Then  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo  fired  three  cannons 
to  indicate  that  dumber  Three  had  won.  Immediately, 
without  any  other  signal,  the  carriages  moved  on,  flowing 
on  towards  the  Corso,  down  all  the  streets,  like  torrents 
pent  up  for  a  while,  which  again  flow  into  the  parent 
river ;  and  the  immense  stream  again  continued  its 
course  between  its  two  banks  of  granite. 

A  new  source  of  noise  and  movement  was  added  to 
the  crowd.  The  sellers  of  moccoletti  entered  on  the  scene. 
The  moccoli,  or  moccoletti,  are  candles  which  vary  in  size 
from  the  paschal  taper  to  the  rushlight,  and  which  stimulate 
the  actors  in  the  great  scene  which  terminates  the  Carnival 
to  two  diverse  enterprises  :  (1)  to  preserve  their  moccoletti 
alight ;  (2)  to  extinguish  the  moccoletti  of  others.  The 
moccoletto  is  like  life  :  man  has  found  but  one  means  of 
transmitting  it,  and  that  one  comes  from  God ;  but  he  has 
discovered  a  thousand  means  of  taking  it  away,  although 
the  Devil  has  somewhat  aided  him.     The  moccoletto  is 


538  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

kindled  by  approaching  it  to  a  light.  But  who  can  de- 
scribe the  thousand  means  of  extinguishing  the  mocco- 
leito?  —  the  gigantic  bellows,  the  monstrous  extinguishers, 
the  superhuman  fans.  Every  one  hastened  to  purchase 
moccoletti,  —  Franz  and  Albert  among  the  rest. 

The  night  was  rapidly  approaching ;  and  already,  at 
the  cry  of  "  Moccoli  t "  repeated  by  the  shrill  voices  of  a 
thousand  venders,  two  or  three  stars  began  to  burn  among 
the  crowd.  It  was  a  signal.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes 
fifty  thousand  lights  glittered,  descending  from  the  Palais 
de  Venise  to  the  Place  del  Popolo,  and  mounting  from 
tlie  Place  del  Popolo  to  the  Palais  de  Venise.  It  seemed 
the  fete  of  Jack-o'-lanterns.  It  is  impossible  to  form  any 
idea  of  it  without  having  seen  it.  Suppose  all  the  stars 
had  descended  from  the  sky  and  mingled  in  a  wild  dance 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  —  the  whole  accompanied  by  cries 
that  were  never  heard  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 
The /acc/imo  follows  the  prince,  the  Transteverian  the  citi- 
zen, every  one  blowing,  extinguishing,  relighting.  Had 
old  J^olus  appeared  at  this  moment,  he  would  have  been 
proclaimed  king  of  the  moccoli,  and  Aquilo  the  heir- 
presumptive  to  the  throne.  This  flaming  race  continued 
for  two  hours  ;  the  Rue  du  Cours  was  light  as  day  ;  the 
features  of  the  spectators  on  the  third  and  fourth  stories 
were  visible.  Every  five  minutes  Albert  took  out  his 
watch ;  at  length  it  pointed  to  seven.  The  two  friends 
were  in  the  Via  dei  Pontefici.  Albert  sprang  out,  bearing 
his  moccoletto  in  his  hand.  Two  or  three  masks  strove  to 
knock  his  moccoletto  out  of  his  hand  ;  but  Albert,  a  first- 
rate  pugilist,  sent  them  rolling  in  the  street,  one  after  the 
other,  and  continued  his  course  towards  the  church  of  San 
Giacomo.  The  steps  were  crowded  with  masks,  who  strove 
to  snatch  each  other's  torches.  Franz  followed  Albert  with 
his  eyes,  and  saw  him  mount  the  first  step.     Instantly  a 


THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME.  539 

mask,  wearing  the  well-known  costume  of  a  female  peasant, 
snatched  his  moccolelto  from  him  without  his  offering  any 
resistance.  Franz  was  too  far  off  to  hear  what  they  said, 
but  without  doubt,  nothing  hostile  passed,  for  he  saw  Albert 
disappear  arm-in-arm  with  the  peasant  girl.  He  watched 
them  pass  through  the  crowd  some  time,  but  at  length  he 
lost  sight  of  them  in  the  Via  Macello.  Suddenly  the  bell 
that  gives  the  signal  for  the  end  of  the  Carnival  sounded, 
and  at  the  same  instant  all  the  moccoletti  were  extinguished 
as  if  by  enchantment.  It  seemed  as  though  one  immense 
blast  of  the  wind  had  extinguished  every  one.  Franz 
found  himself  in  utter  darkness.  No  sound  was  audible 
save  that  of  the  carriages  that  conveyed  the  masks  home  ; 
nothing  was  visible  save  a  few  lights  that  burned  behind 
the  windows.     The  Carnival  was  over. 


540  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

THE   CATACOMBS   OF   ST.    SEBASTIAN. 

In  his  whole  life  perhaps  Franz  had  never  experienced 
60  sudden  an  impression,  so  rapid  a  transition  from  gayety 
to  sadness  as  in  this  moment.  It  seemed  as  though  Rome, 
under  the  magic  breath  of  some  demon  of  the  night,  had 
suddenly  been  changed  into  a  vast  tomb.  By  a  chance, 
which  added  yet  more  to  the  intensity  of  the  darkness, 
the  moon,  which  was  on  the  wane,  would  not  rise  until 
eleven  o'clock,  and  the  streets  which  the  young  man  trav- 
ersed were  plunged  in  the  deepest  obscurity.  The  distance 
was  short ;  and  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  his  carriage,  or 
rather  the  count's,  stopped  before  the  Hotel  de  Londres. 
Dinner  was  waiting ;  but  as  Albert  had  told  him  that  he 
should  not  return  so  soon,  Franz  sat  down  without  him. 
Maitre  Pastrini,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  see  them 
dine  together,  inquired  into  the  cause  of  his  absence,  and 
Franz  replied  that  Albert  had  received  on  the  previous 
evening  an  invitation  which  he  had  accepted.  The  sud- 
den extinction  of  the  moccoletti,  the  darkness  which  had 
replaced  the  light,  and  the  silence  which  had  succeeded 
the  turmoil  had  left  in  Franz's  mind  a  certain  depression 
which  was  not  free  from  uneasiness.  He  therefore  dined 
very  silently,  in  spite  of  the  officious  attention  of  his  host, 
who  presented  himseK  two  or  three  times  to  inquire  if  he 
wanted  anything. 

Franz  resolved  to  wait  for  Albert  as  late  as  possible.    He 
ordered  the  carriage,  therefore,  for  eleven  o'clock,  desiring 


THE  CATACOIVIBS   OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  541 

Maitre  Pastriiii  to  inform  him  the  moment  Albert  returned 
to  the  hotel.  At  eleven  o'clock  Albert  had  not  come  back. 
Franz  dressed  himself  and  went  out,  telling  his  host  that 
he  was  going  to  pass  the  night  at  the  Due  de  Bracciano's. 
The  house  of  the  Due  de  Bracciano  is  one  of  the  most 
delightful  in  Rome ;  his  lady,  one  of  the  last  heiresses  of 
the  Colonnas,  does  its  honors  with  the  most  consummate 
grace,  and  thus  their  fetes  have  a  European  celebrity. 
Franz  and  Albert  had  brought  to  Rome  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  them ;  and  the  first  question  on  Franz's  arrival 
was,  where  was  his  travelling  companion.  Franz  replied 
that  he  had  left  him  at  the  moment  they  were  about  to 
extinguish  the  moccoli,  and  that  he  had  lost  sight  of  him 
in  the  Via  Macello. 

*'  Then  he  has  not  returned  1  "  said  the  duke. 

"  I  waited  for  him  until  this  hour,"  replied  Franz. 

"  And  do  you  know  whither  he  went  1  " 

"  No,  not  precisely ;  however,  I  think  it  was  something 
very  like  an  assignation." 

"The  devil!"  said  the  duke,  "this  is  a  bad  day,  or 
rather  a  bad  night,  to  be  out  late ;  is  it  not.  Countess  1  " 

These  words  were  addressed  to  the  Comtesse  G ,  who 

had  just  arrived,  and  was  leaning  on  the  arm  of  M.  Tor- 
Ionia,  the  duke's  brother. 

"I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is  a  charming  night," 
replied  the  countess ;  "  and  those  who  are  here  will  com- 
plain of  only  one  thing,  —  its  too  rapid  flight." 

"  I  am  not  speaking,"  said  the  duke,  with  a  smile,  "  of 
the  persons  who  are  here.  The  only  danger  here  is,  — for 
the  men,  that  of  falling  in  love  with  you;  and  for  the 
women,  that  of  falling  ill  of  jealousy  at  seeing  you  so 
lovely.  I  allude  to  those  who  are  out  in  the  streets 
of  Rome." 

"  Ah !  "   asked   the   countess,    "  who    is    out    in    the 


542  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

streets   of  Rome  at  this  hour,  unless   it  he  to  go  to  a 
hall  1 " 

"  Our  friend,  Alhert  de  Morcerf,  Countess,  whom  I  left 
in  pursuit  of  his  unknown  about  seven  o'clock  this  even- 
ing," said  Franz,  "and  whom  I  have  not  seen  since." 

"  And  don't  you  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

*'  Not  at  all." 

"  Is  he  armed  ? " 

*'  He  is  en  paillasse." 

*'  You  should  not  have  allowed  him  to  go,"  said  the  duke 
to  Franz,  —  "  you,  who  know  Eome  better  than  he  does." 

"  You  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stop  Number  Three 
of  the  harheri,  who  gained  the  prize  in  the  race  to-day," 
replied  Franz;  "and  besides,  what  could  happen  to  him?" 

"Who  can  tell?  The  night  is  gloomy,  and  the  Tiber 
is  very  near  the  Via  Macello." 

Franz  felt  a  shudder  run  through  his  veins  at  observing 
the  feeling  of  the  duke  and  tiie  countess  so  much  in  uni- 
son with  his  own  anxiety.  "  I  informed  them  at  the  hotel 
that  I  had  the  honor  of  passing  the  night  here,  Duke," 
said  Franz,  "  and  desired  them  to  come  and  inform  me  of 
his  return." 

"  Ah  ! "  replied  the  duke,  "  here,  I  think,  is  one  of  my 
servants  who  is  seeking  you." 

The  duke  was  not  mistaken ;  when  he  saw  Franz  the 
servant  came  up  to  him.  "Your  Excellency,"  he  said, 
"  the  master  of  the  Hotel  de  Londres  has  sent  to  let  you 
know  that  a  man  is  waiting  for  you  with  a  letter  from  the 
Vicomte  de  Morcerf." 

"  A  letter  from  the  viscount ! "  exclaimed  Franz. 

"Yes." 

"  And  who  is  the  man  ]  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Why  did  he  not  bring  it  to  me  here  ? " 


THE  CATACOMBS   OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  543 

"  The  messenger  did  not  say." 

"  And  where  is  the  messenger  1 " 

"  He  went  away  as  soon  as  he  saw  me  enter  the  ball- 
room to  find  you." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  the  countess  to  Franz,  *'  go  with  all  speed  ! 
Poor  young  man  !  perhaps  some  accident  has  liappened 
to  him." 

"I  will  hasten,"  replied  Franz. 

"  Shall  you  return  to  give  us  any  information  1 "  in- 
quired the  countess. 

"  Yes,  if  it  is  not  any  serious  afiair ;  otherwise  I  cannot 
answer  as  to  what  I  may  do  myself." 

"  Be  prudent,  in  any  event,"  said  the  countess. 

"  Oh  !  be  assured  of  that." 

Franz  took  his  hat  and  went  away  in  haste.  He  had 
sent  away  his  carriage  with  orders  for  it  to  fetch  him  at 
two  o'clock  :  fortunately  the  Palace  Bracciano,  which  is 
on  one  side  in  the  Rue  du  Cours  and  on  the  other  in  the 
Place  des  Saints  Apotres,  is  hardly  ten  minutes'  walk 
from  the  Hotel  de  Londres.  As  he  came  near  the  hotel 
Franz  saw  a  man  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  He  had  no 
doubt  that  it  was  the  messenger  from  Albert.  The  man 
was  wrapped  up  in  a  large  cloak.  He  went  up  to  him, 
but  to  his  extreme  astonishment,  the  man  first  addressed 
him.  "  What  does  your  Excellency  want  of  me  1 "  he 
asked,  retreating  a  step,  as  if  to  keep  on  his  guard. 

"  Are  not  you  the  person  who  brought  me  a  letter,"  in- 
quired Franz,  "  from  the  Vicomte  de  Morcerf  ]  " 

"  Your  Excellency  lodges  at  Pastrini's  hotel  1 " 

"  I  do." 

"Your  Excellency  is  the  travelling  companion  of  the 
viscount  1 " 

"  I  am." 

"  Your  Excellency's  name  —  " 


544  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Is  the  Baron  Franz  d'Epinay." 

"  Then  it  is  to  your  Excellency  that  this  letter  is 
addressed." 

"  Is  there  any  answer  1 "  inquired  Franz,  taking  the 
letter  from  him. 

"Yes;  your  friend  at  least  hopes  so." 

''Come  upstairs  with  me  and  I  will  give  it  to  you." 

"  I  prefer  waiting  here,"  said  the  messenger,  with  a 
smile. 

"And  why?" 

"  Your  Excellency  will  know  when  you  have  read  the 
letter." 

"  Shall  I  find  you,  then,  here  1 " 

"  Certainly." 

Franz  entered  the  hotel.  On  the  staircase  he  met  Maitre 
Pastrini.     "  Well  1 "  said  the  landlord. 

"  Well,  what  1  "  responded  Franz. 

"  You  have  seen  the  man  who  desired  to  speak  with  you 
from  your  friend  1 "  he  asked  of  Franz. 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him,"  he  replied,  "  and  he  has  handed 
this  letter  to  me.  Light  the  candle  in  my  apartment,  if 
you  please." 

The  innkeeper  gave  orders  to  a  servant  to  go  before 
Franz  with  a  candle.  The  young  man  had  found  Maitre 
Pastrini  looking  very  much  alarmed,  and  this  had  only 
made  him  the  more  anxious  to  read  Albert's  letter;  and 
thus  he  went  instantly  towards  the  waxlight,  and  unfolded 
the  letter.  It  was  written  and  signed  by  Albert.  Franz 
read  it  twice  before  he  could  comprehend  what  it  contained. 
It  was  thus  conceived  :  — 

My  DEAR  Fellow,  —  The  moment  you  have  received  this, 
have  the  kindness  to  take  from  my  pocket-book,  which  you 
will  find  in  the  square  drawer  of  the  secretary,  the  letter  of 
credit  ;  add  your  own  to  it,  if  it  be  not  sufiicient.     Eun  to 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.   SEBASTIAN.  545 

Torlonia,  draw  from  him  instantly  four  thousand  piastres,  and 
give  them  to  the  bearer.  It  is  urgent  that  I  should  have  this 
money  without  delay.  I  do  not  say  more,  relying  on  you  as 
you  may  rely  on  me.     Your  friend, 

Albert  de  Morcerf. 
P.  S.     I  now  believe  in  Italian  banditti. 

Below  these  lines  were  written  in  a  strange  hand  the 
following  in  Italian  :  — 

Se  alle  sei  della  mattina  le  quattro  mila  piastre  non  sono 
nelle  mie  mani,  alle  sette  il  Conte  Alberto  avrk  cessato  di 
vivere.^ 

LuiGi  Vampa. 

This  second  signature  explained  all  to  Franz,  who  now 
understood  the  objection  of  the  messenger  to  coming  up 
into  the  apartment  :  the  street  was  safer  for  him.  Albert, ' 
then,  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  famous  chief  of 
banditti  in  whose  existence  he  had  for  so  long  a  time  re- 
fused to  believe.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  He  hastened 
to  open  the  secretary,  and  found  the  pocket-book  in  the 
drawer,  and  in  it  the  letter  of  credit.  It  was  for  six  thou- 
sand piastres  in  all ;  but  of  these  six  thousand  Albert  had 
already  expended  three  thousand.  As  to  Franz,  he  had 
no  letter  of  credit,  as  he  lived  at  Florence,  and  had  come 
to  Eorae  to  pass  only  seven  or  eight  days ;  he  had  brought 
but  a  hundred  louis,  and  of  these  he  had  not  more  than 
fifty  left.  Thus  seven  or  eight  hundred  piastres  were 
wanting  to  them  both  to  make  up  the  sum  that  Albert 
required.  True,  he  might  in  such  a  case  rely  on  the  kind- 
ness of  M.  Torlonia.  He  was  therefore  about  to  return 
to  the  Palace  Bracciano  without  loss  of  time,  when  sud- 

1  If  by  six  in  the  morning  the  four  thousand  piastres  are  not  in  my 
hands,  by  seven  o'clock  the  Vicomte  Albert  de  Morcerf  will  have  ceased 
to  live. 

VOL.  I.  —  35 


546  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

denly  a  luminous  idea  crossed  his  mind.  He  remembered 
the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo.  Franz  was  about  to  ring  for 
Maitre  Pastrini,  when  that  worthy  presented  himself. 
"My  dear  sir,"  he  said  hastily,  "do  you  know  if  the 
count  is  within  1  " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency ;  he  has  this  moment  returned." 

"  Is  he  in  bed  1 " 

"  I  should  say  no." 

"  Then  ring  at  his  door,  if  you  please,  and  request  him 
to  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  an  audience." 

Maitre  Pastrini  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  returning 
five  minutes  after,  he  said,  "  The  count  awaits  your 
Excellency." 

Franz  went  along  the  corridor,  and  a  servant  introduced 
him  to  the  count.  He  was  in  a  small  cabinet  which  Franz 
had  not  yet  seen,  and  which  was  surrounded  with  divans. 
The  count  came  towards  him.  "  Well,  what  good  wind 
blows  you  hither  at  this  hour  1 "  said  he ;  "  have  you 
come  to  sup  with  mel     It  would  be  very  kind  of  you." 

"  No  ;  I  have  come  to  speak  to  you  of  a  very  serious 
matter." 

"  A  serious  matter  !  "  said  the  count,  looking  at  Franz 
with  the  earnestness  usual  to  him ;  "  and  what  may 
it  heV 

"  Are  we  alone  1 " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  count,  going  to  the  door,  and  return- 
ing.    Franz  gave  him  Albert's  letter. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said. 

The  count  read  it.     "  Ah,  ah  !  "  said  he. 

"  Did  you  see  the  postscript  1  " 

"  I  did,  indeed,  — 

Se  alle  sei  della  mattina  le  quattro  mila  piastre  non  sono 
nelle  mie  mani,  alle  sette  11  Conte  Alberto  a^T^  cessato  di 
vivere.  liUiGi  Yampa. 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  547 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ]  "    inquired  Franz. 

"  Have  you  the  money  he  demands  ] " 

"  Yes,  all  but  eight  hundred  piastres." 

The  count  went  to  his  secretary,  opened  it,  and  pulling 
out  a  drawer  filled  with  gold,  said  to  Franz,  "  I  hope  you 
will  not  offend  me  by  applying  to  any  one  but  myself." 

"  You  see,  on  the  contrary,  I  come  to  you  hrst  and 
instantly,"  replied  Franz. 

"  And  I  thank  you ;  help  yourself ; "  and  he  made  a 
sign  to  Franz  to  take  what  he  pleased. 

"  Is  it  absolutely  necessary,  then,  to  send  the  money  to 
Luigi  Yampa  1  "  asked  the  young  man,  looking  fixedly  in 
his  turn  at  the  count. 

"Judge  for  yourself,"  replied  he  ;  "the  postscript  is 
explicit." 

"  I  think  that  if  you  would  take  the  trouble  of  reflect- 
ing, you  could  find  a  way  of  simplifying  the  negotiation/' 
said  Franz. 

"How  sol"  returned  the  count,  Avith  surprise. 

"  If  we  were  to  go  together  to  Luigi  Yampa,  I  am  sure 
he  would  not  refuse  you  Albert's  freedom." 

"  What  influence  can  I  possibly  have  over  a  bandit  ] " 

"  Have  you  not  just  rendered  him  one  of  those  services 
that  are  never  forgotten  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Have  you  not  saved  Peppino's  life  ]  " 

"  Ah,  ah  !"  said  the  count,  "  who  told  you  that?" 

"  No  matter  ;  I  know  it." 

The  count  knit  his  brows  and  remained  silent  an 
instant.  "  And  if  I  went  to  seek  Yampa,  would  you 
accompany  me  ] " 

"  If  my  society  would  not  be  disagreeable." 

*'  Be  it  so.  It  is  a  lovely  night ;  and  a  walk  in  the 
suburbs  of  Rome  will  do  us  both  good." 


548  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Shall  I  take  any  arms  ]  " 

"  For  what  purpose  ] " 

"  Any  money  1 " 

"It  is  useless.  Where  is  the  man  who  brought  the 
letter  1" 

"  In  the  street." 

"  He  awaits  the  answer  ] " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  must  learn  where  we  are  going.  I  will  summon 
him  hither." 

"It  is  useless  ;  he  would  not  come  up." 

"  To  your  apartments,  perhaps  ;  but  he  will  not  make 
any  difficulty  in  entering  mine." 

The  count  went  to  the  window  of  the  apartment  that 
looked  on  to  the  street,  and  whistled  in  a  peculiar  manner. 
Tlie  man  in  the  mantle  quitted  the  wall  and  advanced 
into  the  centre  of  the  street.  ^^  Salite /"  said  the  count, 
in  the  same  tone  in  which  he  would  have  given  an  order 
to  his  servant.  The  messenger  obeyed  without  the  least 
hesitation,  but  rather  with  alacrity,  and  mounting  the 
steps  of  the  passage  at  a  bound,  entered  the  hotel ;  five 
seconds  afterwards  he  was  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet. 
"Ah,  it  is  you,  Pcppino,"  said  the  count.  But  Peppino, 
instead  of  answering,  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  seized 
the  count's  hand  and  covered   it  with  kisses. 

"Ah,"  said  the  count,  "you  have  then  not  forgotten 
that  I  saved  your  life ;  that  is  strange,  for  it  is  a  week 
ago  !  " 

"  No,  Excellency  ;  and  never  shall  I  forget  it,"  returned 
Peppino,  with  an  accent  of  profound  gratitude. 

"  Never !  That  is  a  long  time ;  but  it  is  something 
that  you  believe  so.  Eise  and  answer."  Peppino  glanced 
anxiously  at  Franz.  "  Oli,  you  may  speak  before  his 
Excellency,"  said  the  count;  "he  is  one  of  my  friends. 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  549 

You  allow  me  to  give  you  this  title  1 "  continued  the 
count,  in  French ;  "  it  is  necessary  in  order  to  gain  this 
man's  confidence." 

"  You  can  speak  before  me,"  said  Franz ;  "  I  am  a  friend 
of  the  count's." 

"  Good  !  "  returned  Peppino.  "  I  am  ready  to  answer 
any  questions  your  Excellency  may  address  to  me." 

"  How  did  the  Vicoiute  Albert  fall  into  Luigi's 
hands]" 

"  Excellency,  the  Frenchman's  carriage  passed  several 
times  the  one  in  which  was  Teresa." 

"  The  chiefs  mistress  1 " 

"  Yes.  The  Frenchman  threw  her  a  bouquet ;  Teresa 
returned  it,  —  with  the  consent  of  the  chief,  who  was  in 
the  carriage." 

"  What ! "  cried  Franz ;  "  was  Luigi  Vampa  in  the  car- 
riage with  the  Roman  peasants?" 

"  It  was  he  who  drove,  disguised  as  the  coachman," 
replied  Peppino. 

"Well?"  said  the  count. 

"  Well,  then,  the  Frenchman  took  oflf  his  mask ;  Teresa, 
with  the  chief's  consent,  did  the  same.  The  Frenchman 
asked  for  a  rendezvous  ;  Teresa  gave  him  one,  —  only,  in- 
stead of  Teresa,  it  was  Beppo  who  was  on  the  steps  of 
the  church  of  San  Giacomo." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Franz,  "  the  peasant  girl  who 
snatched  his  moccoletto  from  him  —  " 

"  Was  a  lad  of  fifteen,"  replied  Peppino.  "  But  it  was 
no  disgrace  to  your  friend  to  have  been  deceived  ;  Beppo 
has  taken  in  plenty  of  others." 

"  And  Beppo  led  him  outside  the  walls  1 "  said  the 
count. 

"  Exactly  so  ;  a  carriage  was  waiting  at  the  end  of  Via 
Macello.     Beppo  got  in,  inviting  the  Frenchman  to  follow 


550  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

him,  and  lie  did  not  wait  to  be  asked  twice.  He  gallantly 
offered  the  right-hand  seat  to  Beppo,  and  sat  by  him. 
Beppo  told  him  he  was  going  to  take  him  to  a  villa  a 
league  from  Rome ;  the  Frenchman  assured  him  he  would 
follow  him  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The  coachman  went 
up  the  Rue  di  Ripetta  and  out  by  the  Porta  San  Paolo. 
When  they  were  two  hundred  yards  outside,  as  the  French- 
man became  somewhat  too  forward,  Beppo  put  a  brace  of 
pistols  to  his  head ;  the  coachman  pulled  up  and  did  the 
same.  At  the  same  time  four  of  the  band,  who  were  con- 
cealed on  the  banks  of  the  Almo,  surrounded  the  carriage. 
The  Frenchman  made  some  resistance  and  nearly  strangled 
Beppo ;  but  he  could  not  resist  five  armed  men,  and  was 
forced  to  yield.  They  made  him  get  out,  walk  along  the 
banks  of  the  river,  and  then  brought  him  to  Teresa  and 
Luigi,  who  were  waiting  fur  him  in  the  catacombs  of 
St.  Sebastian." 

"  "Well,"  said  the  count,  turning  towards  Franz,  "  it 
seems  to  me  that  this  is  a  very  pretty  story.  What  do 
you  say  to  it  ?  " 

"Why,  that  I  should  think  it  very  amusing,"  replied 
Franz,  "if  it  had  concerned  any  one  but  poor  Albert." 

"  And  in  truth,  if  you  had  not  found  me  here,"  said 
the  count,  "  it  might  have  proved  a  gallant  adventure 
which  would  have  cost  your  friend  dear;  but  now,  be 
assured,  his  alarm  will  be  the  only  serious  consequence." 

"  And  shall  we  go  and  find  him  1  "  inquired  Franz. 

"  Oh,  decidedly.  He  is  in  a  very  picturesque  place ;  do 
you  know  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian? " 

"  I  was  never  in  them,  but  I  have  often  resolved  to 
visit  them." 

"  Well,  here  is  an  opportunity  made  to  your  hand,  and 
it  would  be  difficult  to  contrive  a  better.  Have  you  a 
carriage  ] " 


THE  CATACOMBS   OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  551 

"No." 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence ;  I  always  have  one  ready, 
day  and  night." 

"  Always  ready  ]  " 

"  Yes.  I  am  a  very  capricious  being ;  and  I  should  tell 
you  that  sometimes  wlieu  I  rise,  or  after  my  dinner,  or  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  I  resolve  on  starting  for  some 
particular  point,  and  away  I  go."  The  count  rang,  and  a 
footman  appeared.  "Order  out  the  carriage,"  he  said, 
"  and  remove  the  pistols  which  are  in  the  holsters.  You 
need  not  awaken  the  coachman ;  Ali  will  drive." 

In  a  moment  the  noise  of  wheels  was  heard,  and  the 
carriage  stopped  at  the  door.  The  count  took  out  his 
watch.  "  Half-past  twelve,"  he  said.  "  We  might  start 
at  five  o'clock  and  he  in  time ;  but  the  delay  may  cause 
3'^our  friend  to  pass  an  uneasy  night,  and  therefore  we  had 
better  go  with  all  speed  to  extricate  him  from  the  hands 
of  the  infidels.  Are  you  still  resolved  to  accompany 
mer' 

"  More  determined  than  ever." 

"  Well,  then,  come  along." 

Franz  and  the  count  went  downstairs,  accompanied  by^ 
Peppino.     At  the  door  they  found  the  carriage.     Ali  was  \ 
on  the  box,  in  whom  Franz  recognized  the  dumb  slave  of    , 
the  grotto  of  Monte  Cristo.     Franz  and  the  count  got  into    ] 
the  carriage.    Peppino  placed  himself  beside  Ali,  and  they 
set  off  at  a  rapid  pace.     Ali  had  received  his  instructions, 
and  went  down  the  Rue  du  Cours,  crossed  the  Campo 
Vaccino,  went  up  the  Strada  San  Gregorio,  and  reached 
the  gates  of  St.  Sebastian.     There  the  porter  raised  some 
difficulties,  but  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  produced  an 
authority  from  the  governor  of  Rome  to  quit  or  enter  the 
city  at  any  and  all  hours  of  the  day  or  night ;  the  portcullis 
was  therefore  raised,  the  porter  liad  a  louis  for  his  trouble, 


552  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  they  went  on  their  way.  The  road  which  the  car- 
riage now  traversed  was  the  ancient  Appian  Way,  and  bor- 
dered with  tombs.  From  time  to  time,  by  the  light  of 
the  moon,  which  began  to  rise,  Franz  imagined  that  lie 
saw  a  sentinel  stand  out  from  the  ruin,  and  suddenly 
retreat  into  the  darkness  on  a  signal  from  Peppino.  A 
short  time  before  they  reached  the  circus  of  Caracalla  the 
carriage  stopped,  Peppino  opened  the  door,  and  the  count 
and  Franz  alighted. 

"In  ten  minutes,"  said  the  count  to  his  companion,  "we 
shall  arrive  there." 

He  then  took  Peppino  aside,  gave  him  some  order  in 
a  low  voice,  and  Peppino  went  away,  taking  with  him  a 
torch,  brought  with  them  in  the  carriage.  Five  minutes 
elapsed,  during  which  Franz  saw  the  shepherd  advance 
along  a  narrow  path  in  the  midst  of  the  irregular  ground 
formed  by  upheavals  in  the  plain  of  Rome,  and  disappear 
in  the  midst  of  the  high  red  herbage,  which  seemed  like 
the  bristling  mane  of  some  enormous  lion.  "  Now,"  said 
the  count,  "  let  us  follow  him."  Franz  and  the  count  in 
their  turn  then  advanced  along  the  same  path,  which  at 
the  end  of  a  hundred  paces  led  them  by  a  declivity  to  the 
bottom  of  a  small  valley.  They  then  perceived  two  men 
conversing  in  the  shade. 

"  Ought  we  to  advance  ?  "  asked  Franz  of  the  count ; 
"  or  should  we  pause  ?  " 

*'  Let  us  go  on  ;  Peppino  wOl  have  warned  the  sentry 
of  our  coming." 

One  of  these  two  men  was  Peppino,  and  the  other  a 
bandit  on  the  lookout.  Franz  and  the  count  advanced, 
and  the  bandit  saluted  tliem. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  Peppino,  addressing  the  count, 
**  if  you  will  follow  me,  the  opening  of  the  catacombs  is 
close  at  hand." 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST,  SEBASTIAN.  553 

"  Go  on,  then,"  replied  the  count. 

They  came  to  an  opening  behind  a  chimp  of  bushes, 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  pile  of  rocks  by  whicli  a  man  could 
scarcely  pass.  Peppino  glided  first  into  this  crevice  ;  but 
after  advancing  a  few  paces  the  passage  widened.  Then 
he  paused,  lighted  his  torch,  and  turned  round  to  see  if 
they  came  after  him.  The  count  first  reached  a  kind  of 
square  space,  and  Franz  followed  him  closely.  The  path 
sloped  in  a  gentle  descent,  and  widened  as  they  proceeded ; 
still  Franz  and  the  count  were  compelled  to  advance  stoop- 
ing, and  scarcely  able  to  proceed  two  abreast.  They  went 
on  a  hundred  and  fifty  paces  thus,  and  then  were  stopped 
by  "  Who  goes  there  ]  "  At  the  same  time  they  saw  the 
reflection  of  their  torch  on  the  barrel  of  a  carbine. 

"  A  friend  ! "  responded  Peppino  ;  and  advancing  alone 
towards  the  sentry,  he  said  a  few  words  to  him  in  a  low 
tone,  and  then  he,  like  the  first,  saluted  the  nocturnal 
visitors,  making  a  sign  that  they  might  proceed. 

Behind  the  sentinel  was  a  staircase  with  twenty  steps. 
Franz  and  the  count  descended  these,  and  found  themselves 
in  a  kind  of  cross-roads,  forming  a  burial-ground.  Five 
roads  diverged  like  the  rays  of  a  star,  and  the  walls,  dug 
into  niches  in  the  shape  of  coffins,  showed  that  they  were 
at  last  in  the  catacombs.  In  one  of  the  cavities  whose 
extent  it  was  impossible  to  determine  some  rays  of  light 
were  visible.  The  count  laid  his  hand  on  Franz's  shoulder. 
"  "Would  you  like  to  see  a  camp  of  bandits  in  repose  1 "  he 
inquired. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Franz. 

"Come  with  me,  then,    Peppino,  extinguish  the  torch." 

Peppino  obeyed,  and  Franz  and  the  count  were  suddenly 
in  utter  darkness ;  but  fifty  paces  in  advance  of  them  there 
played  along  the  wall  some  reddish  beams  of  light,  more 
visible  since  Peppino  had  put  out  his  torch.     They  ad- 


554  THE    COUNT   OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

vanced  silently,  the  count  guiding  Franz  as  if  he  had  the 
singular  faculty  of  seeing  in  the  dark.  Franz  himself, 
however,  distinguished  his  way  more  plainly  in  proportion 
as  he  advanced  towards  the  rays  of  light,  which  served 
them  as  a  guide.  Three  arcades,  of  which  the  middle 
served  as  a  door,  gave  them  passage.  These  arcades 
opened  on  one  side  into  the  corridor  in  which  were  the 
count  and  Franz,  and  on  the  other  into  a  large  square 
chamber  entirely  surrounded  by  niches  similar  to  those 
of  which  we  have  spoken.  In  the  midst  of  this  chamber 
were  four  stones,  which  had  formerly  served  as  an  altar, 
as  was  evident  from  the  cross  which  still  surmounted  them. 
A  lamp,  placed  at  the  base  of  a  pillar,  lighted  up  with  its 
pale  and  flickering  flame  the  singular  scene  which  presented 
itself  to  the  eyes  of  the  two  visitors  concealed  in  the  shadow. 
A  man  was  seated  with  his  elbow  leaning  on  the  column, 
and  was  reading  with  his  back  turned  to  the  arcades, 
through  the  openings  of  which  the  new-comers  contem- 
plated him.  This  was  the  chief  of  the  band,  Luigi  Vampa. 
Around  him  and  in  groups,  according  to  their  fancy,  lying 
in  their  mantles,  or  with  their  backs  against  a  kind  of 
stone  bench  which  went  all  around  the  Columbarium, 
were  to  be  seen  twenty  brigands  or  more,  each  having  his 
carbine  within  reach.  At  the  farther  end,  silent,  scarcely 
visible,  and  like  a  shadow,  was  a  sentinel,  who  was  walking 
up  and  down  before  a  kind  of  opening,  which  was  distin- 
guishable only  as  in  that  spot  the  darkness  seemed  thicker. 
When  the  count  thought  Franz  had  gazed  sufficiently  on 
this  picturesque  tableau,  he  raised  his  finger  to  his  lips,  to 
warn  him  to  be  silent,  and  ascending  the  three  steps  which 
led  to  the  corridor  of  the  Columbarium,  entered  the  cham- 
ber by  the  centre  arcade,  and  advanced  towards  Vampa, 
who  was  so  intent  on  the  book  before  him  that  he  did  not 
hear  the  noise  of  his  footsteps. 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  555 

"Who  goes  there?"  cried  the  sentinel,  less  occupietl,  and 
who  saw  by  the  lamp's  light  a  shadow  which  approached 
his  chief.  At  this  sound,  Vaiupa  rose  quickly,  drawing 
at  the  same  moment  a  pistol  from  his  girdle.  In  a  moment 
all  the  bandits  were  on  their  feet,  and  twenty  carbines 
were  levelled  at  the  count.  "  Well,"  said  he,  in  a  voice 
perfectly  calm,  and  no  muscle  of  his  countenance  disturbed, 
—  "  well,  my  dear  Vampa,  it  ai)pears  to  me  that  you  re- 
ceive a  friend  with  a  great  deal  of  ceremony  !  " 

"  Ground  arms  !  "  exclaimed  the  chief,  with  an  impera- 
tive sign  of  the  hand,  whde  with  the  other  ho  took  olf  his 
hat  respectfully  ;  then  turning  to  the  singular  peKonage 
who  had  caused  this  scene,  ho  said,  "  Your  pardon,  Mon- 
sieur the  Count,  but  I  was  so  far  from  expecting  the  honor 
of  a  visit  that  I  did  not  recognize  you." 

"  It  seems  that  your  memory  is  eijually  short  in  every- 
thing, Vampa,"  said  the  count,  "  and  that  not  only  do  you 
forget  people's  faces,  but  also  the  agreements  you  make 
with  them." 

"  What  agreements  liavo  I  forgotten,  Monsieur  the 
Count?"  inquired  the  bandit,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  having  committed  an  error  is  anxious  to  repair  it. 

"  Was  it  not  agreed,"  asked  the  count,  "  that  nut  only 
my  person,  but  also  that  of  my  friends,  should  bo  respected 
by  you  ? " 

"And  how  have  I  broken  tliat  treaty,  your  Excellency?" 

"  You  have  this  evening  carried  otf  and  conveyed  hither 
the  Vicomte  Albert  de  Morcerf  Well,"  continued  the 
count,  in  a  tone  that  made  Franz  shudder,  "  tliis  young 
gentleman  is  one  of  my  friends  ;  this  young  gentleman 
lodges  in  the  same  hotel  as  myself ;  this  young  gentleman 
has  been  up  and  down  the  Corso  for  eight  hours  in  my  pri- 
vate carriage,  — and  yet,  I  repeat  to  you,  you  have  carried 
hijn  off  and  conveyed  him  hither,  and,"  added  the  count, 


556  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

taking  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  "  you  have  set  a  ransom 
on  him,  as  if  he  were  an  indifferent  person." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  all  this,  —  you  1  "  inquired 
the  brigand  chief,  turning  towards  his  men,  who  all  re- 
treated before  his  look.  "Why  have  you  exposed  me  thus 
to  fail  in  my  word  towards  a  gentleman  like  the  count,  who 
has  all  our  lives  in  his  hands  1  By  the  blood  of  Christ ! 
if  I  thought  that  any  one  of  you  knew  that  the  young 
gentleman  was  the  friend  of  his  Excellency,  I  would  blow 
his  brains  out  with  my  own  hand  ! " 

"  Well,"  said  the  count,  turning  towards  Franz,  "  I  told 
you  there  was  some  mistake  in  this." 

"  Are  you  not  alone  1 "  asked  Vampa,  with  uneasiness. 

"  I  am  with  the  person  to  whom  this  letter  was  ad- 
dressed, and  to  whom  I  desired  to  prove  that  Luigi  Vampa 
was  a  man  of  his  word.  Come,  your  Excellency,  here  is 
Luigi  Vampa,  who  will  himself  express  to  you  his  deep 
regret  at  the  mistake  he  has  committed." 

Franz  approached,  the  chief  advancing  several  steps  to 
meet  him.  "  Welcome  among  us,  your  Excellency  !  "  he 
said  to  him ;  "  you  heard  what  the  count  just  said,  and 
also  my  reply.  Let  me  add  that  I  would  not  have  such  a 
thing  as  this  happen  for  the  four  thousand  piastres  at 
which  I  had  fixed  your  friend's  ransom." 

*'  But,"  said  Franz,  looking  round  him  uneasily,  "where 
is  the  viscount  ]     I  do  not  see  him." 

"  Nothing  has  happened  to  him,  I  hope  ? "  said  the 
count,  frowning. 

"  The  prisoner  is  tliere,"  replied  Vampa,  pointing  to  the 
hollow  space  in  front  of  which  the  bandit  was  on  guard ; 
"  and  I  will  go  myself  and  tell  him  that  he  is  free."  The 
chief  went  towards  the  place  he  had  pointed  out  as  Albert's 
prison,  and  Franz  and  the  count  followed  him.  "  What 
is  the  prisoner  doing  1 "  inquired  Vampa  of  the  sentinel 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  557 

"  21a  foi  f  Captain,"  replied  the  sentry,  "I  do  not 
know ;  for  the  last  hour  I  have  not  heard  him  stir." 

"  Come  in,  your  Excellency,"  said  Vampa. 

The  count  and  Franz  ascended  seven  or  eight  steps  after 
the  chief,  who  drew  hack  a  bolt,  and  opened  a  door.  Then, 
by  the  gleam  of  a  lamp  similar  to  that  which  lighted  the 
Columbarium,  Albert  was  to  be  seen  wrapped  up  in  a 
cloak  which  one  of  the  bandits  had  lent  him,  lying  iu 
a  corner  in  profound  slumber. 

"  Come  !  "  said  the  count,  smiling  with  his  own  pecu- 
liar smile,  "  not  so  bad  for  a  man  who  is  to  be  shot  at 
seven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  !  " 

Vampa  looked  at  Albert  with  a  kind  of  admiration ;  he 
was  not  insensible  to  such  a  proof  of  courage. 

"  You  are  right.  Monsieur  the  Count,"  he  said  ;  "  this 
must  be  one  of  your  friends."  Then,  going  to  Albert,  he 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  "  Will  your  Excel- 
lency please  to  awaken  1 " 

Albert  stretched  out  his  arms,  rubbed  his  eyelids,  and 
opened  his  eyes.  "  Ah,  ah  !  "  said  he,  "  is  it  you, 
Captain  1  You  should  have  allowed  me  to  sleep.  I  had 
such  a  delightful  dream  :  I  was  dancing  the  galop  at  Tor- 
Ionia's  with  the  Comtesse  G ."     Then  he  drew  from 

his  pocket  his  watch,  which  he  had  kept  that  he  might 
see  how  time  sped. 

"  Half-past  one  only  !  "  said  he.  "  Why  the  devil  do 
you  rouse  me  at  this  hour]" 

"  To  tell  you  that  you  are  free,  your  Excellency." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Albert,  with  perfect  ease 
of  mind,  "  remember  for  the  future  I^apoleon's  maxim, 
'  Never  awaken  me  but  for  bad  news  ; '  if  you  had  let  me 
sleep  on  I  should  have  finished  my  galop,  and  have  been 
grateful  to  you  all  my  life.  So,  then,  they  have  paid  my 
ransom  1  " 


558  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  No,  your  Excellency." 

"  Well,  then,  how  am  I  free  ?  " 

"  Some  one  to  whom  I  can  refuse  nothing  has  come  to 
demand  you." 

"  Come  hither  1 " 

"  Yes,  hither." 

"  Really  !  that  some  one  is  a  most  amiable  person." 
Albert  looked  round,  and  jDerceived  Franz.  "  What  !  " 
said  he,  "  is  it  you,  my  dear  Franz,  whose  devotion  and 
friendship  are  thus  displayed  ]  " 

"  No,  not  I,"  replied  Franz  ;  "  but  our  neighbor,  the 
Count  of  Monte  Cristo." 

"  Ah,  ah  I  Monsieur  the  Count,"  said  Albert,  gayly, 
and  arranging  his  cravat  and  wristbands,  "  you  are  really 
most  kind,  and  I  hope  you  Avill  consider  me  as  eternally 
obliged  to  you,  —  in  the  first  place  for  the  carriage,  and 
in  the  next  for  this ; "  and  he  put  out  his  hand  to  the 
count,  who  shuddered  as  he  gave  his  own,  but  who  never- 
theless did  give  it.  The  bandit  gazed  on  this  scene  with 
amazement ;  he  was  evidentlj''  accustomed  to  see  his  pris- 
oners tremble  before  him,  and  yet  here  was  one  whose 
gay  humor  was  not  for  a  moment  altered.  As  for  Franz, 
he  was  enchanted  at  the  way  in  which  Albert  had  sus- 
tained the  national  honor  in  the  presence  of  the  bandit. 
"  My  dear  Albert,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  make  haste,  we 
shall  yet  have  time  to  finish  the  night  at  Torlonia's. 
You  may  conclude  your  interrupted  galop,  so  that  yoii 
•will  owe  no  ill-will  to  Signor  Luigi,  who  has  indeed 
throughout  this  whole  affair  acted  like  a  gentleman." 

"  You  are  decidedly  right ;  and  we  may  reach  the 
palace  by  two  o'clock.  Signor  Luigi,"  continued  Albert, 
*'  is  there  any  formality  to  fulfil  before  I  take  leave  of 
your  Excellency  ]  " 

"  None,  sir,"  replied  the  bandit ;  "  you  are  as  free  as  air." 


THE  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.  SEBASTIAN.  559 

"  Well,  theu,  a  happy  and  merry  life  to  you  !  Come, 
gentlemea,  come." 

Aud  Albert,  followed  by  Franz  and  the  count,  de- 
scended the  staircase,  crossed  the  square  chamber,  where 
stood  all  the  bandits,  hat  in  hand.  "  Peppino,"  said  the 
brigand  chief,  "  give  me  the  torch." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  then  1 "  inquired  the  count. 

"  I  will  show  you  the  way  back  myself,"  said  the  cap- 
tain ;  "  that  is  the  least  honor  I  can  testify  to  your  Excel- 
lency." And  taking  the  lighted  torch  from  the  hands  of 
the  herdsman,  he  preceded  his  guests,  not  as  a  servant 
who  performs  an  act  of  civility,  but  like  a  king  who  pre- 
cedes ambassadors.  On  reaching  the  door  he  bowed. 
"And  now,  Monsieur  the  Count,"  added  he,  "allow  me  to 
repeat  my  apologies ;  and  I  hope  you  will  not  entertain 
any  resentment  at  what  has  occurred." 

"  ^0,  my  dear  Vampa,"  replied  the  count ;  "  besides, 
you  redeem  your  errors  so  politely  that  one  almost  feels 
obliged  to  you  for  having  committed  them." 

"  Gentlemen,"  added  the  chief,  turning  towards  the 
young  men,  "  perhaps  the  offer  may  not  appear  very 
tempting  to  you  ;  but  if  you  should  ever  feel  inclined 
to  pay  me  a  second  visit,  wherever  I  may  be,  you  shall 
be  welcome." 

Franz  and  Albert  bowed.  The  count  went  out  first, 
then  Albert.  Franz  paused  for  a  moment.  "  Has  your 
Excellency  anything  to  ask  me  1  "  said  Vampa,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Franz  ;  "  I  am  curious  to  know 
what  work  you  were  perusing  with  so  much  attention  as 
we  entered  1 " 

"  *  Caesar's  Commentaries/  "  said  the  bandit ;  "  it  is  my 
favorite  work." 

"  Well,  are  you  coming  1  "  asked  Albert. 


560  THE  COUNT  OF   MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Franz,  "  here  I  am  ! "  and  he  in  his  turn 
left  the  caves. 

They  advanced  to  the  plain.  "  Ah,  your  pardon  I "  said 
Albert,  turning  round ;  "  will  you  allow  me,  Captain  1 " 
And  he  lighted  his  cigar  at  Vampa's  torch.  "  Now,  Mon- 
sieur the  Count,"  he  said,  "  let  us  on  with  all  the  speed 
we  may.  I  am  enormously  anxious  to  finish  my  night  at 
the  Due  de  Bracciauo's." 

They  found  the  carriage  where  they  had  left  it.  The 
count  said  a  word  in  Arabic  to  Ali,  and  the  horses  went 
off  at  great  speed.  It  was  just  two  o'clock  by  Albert's 
watch  when  the  two  friends  entered  into  the  dancing- 
room.  Tiieir  return  was  quite  an  event ;  but  as  they  en- 
tered together,  all  uneasiness  on  Albert's  account  ceased 
instantly. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  Vicomte  de  Morcerf,  advancing  to- 
wards the  countess,  "  yesterday  you  were  so  condescending 
as  to  promise  me  a  galop  ;  I  am  rather  late  in  claiming 
this  gracious  promise,  but  here  is  my  friend,  whose  charac- 
ter for  veracity  you  well  know,  and  he  will  assure  you 
the  delay  arose  from  no  fault  of  mine."  And  as  at  this 
moment  the  music  gave  the  warning  for  the  waltz,  Albert 
put  his  arm  round  the  waist  of  the  countess,  and  disap- 
peared with  her  in  the  whirl  of  dancers.  In  the  mean 
while  Franz  was  considering  the  singular  shudder  that 
had  pervaded  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo's  frame  at  the 
moment  when  he  had  been,  in  some  sort,  forced  to  give 
his  hand  to  Albert. 


END  OF  VOL.  L 


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